


Open and Shut

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Trust Issues, White Collar Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Neal falls in love he's sure he's in Heaven. But soon he finds himself on a collision course with both Peter and Mozzie.  Set post S4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prepared for the White Collar Big Bang challenge.

More notes [at my LJ](http://treonb.livejournal.com/39839.html).

 **Art:** Pikasafire

 

  


[Open and Shut fanmix](http://8tracks.com/pikasafire/open-and-shut)

  
"I'll be right here, and Jones is set up with a backup team around back. We've got eyes on you all around the cafe."

Peter and Neal were standing by the door of the van. Diana was in the back, making last minute sound checks.

"Yes, yes, I get it." Neal sounded bored. It wasn't the first time he's done these things for the FBI and he's heard this speech many times before. "Peter, this as open and shut as you get. You'll have your guy and be back home before the game starts."

Peter sighed. "Don't get cocky." After his recent arrest, unjust as it was, he couldn't afford screw-ups. The higher-ups were looking over his shoulder, reading over every report and just waiting for the right opportunity to transfer him to some other, less visible, less influential position. He wished Neal would get serious and realize how tenuous Peter's position was.

"It's a simple swap. Nothing to it." Neal checked his watch - his fake FBI watch slash listening device - and straightened his tie. The meet was set for 4pm, which gave him a full ten minutes to get set up.

He still had his anklet on. Following the events in the Empire State Building, Callaway's new SOP was to keep Neal's time off-anklet to a minimum. Peter had to get her express approval for any such excursion, and since this op was low-risk, he hadn't even bothered. Neal really missed Hughes. "Are we ready?"

"Yes." Peter clapped his shoulder. "Good luck."

It _was_ a simple swap. A stolen painting, "The Dancer" by the French impressionist Forain, for a hundred grand of FBI cash. The minute the swap was completed, Peter's team would swoop in and everybody could go home. Another win for Caffrey and Burke.

Out on the street, Neal tightened his grip on the briefcase containing the money. The fence had chosen to meet at a cafe downtown. Neal sat down at one of the sidewalk chairs, so he could keep watch over passer-byes, and settled himself down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Neal glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes past the appointment time. "I don't think they're going to show," he told the watch. A few more minutes passed by idly, but Peter didn't oblige by aborting the op. Next time he'll have to check in advance how long he needed to wait.

He was about to nudge Peter some more when a motorcycle stopped by the curb. The driver, a woman, wore all black, her face obscured by a shiny helmet. "Hop on!"

Neal shaded his eyes.

"Yes, you! Hop on!"

Neal hesitated for barely half a second before he settled in behind the driver. If this was his swap, he was going to go with whatever was thrown at him. Peter would have to keep up.

In the van, Peter dropped his headphones. "Don't let her get away!"

Diana was already shouting into her walkie-talkie. She turned to Peter in between shouts. "Caffrey's got his anklet on."

For once, Peter was glad Callaway had insisted. The driver put the van in gear, jumping into traffic. But the chase didn't last long. They hit gridlock two blocks down. Peter was already on the phone to the NYPD, but for now, Neal would have to manage on his own.

Neal held on to his abductor as she skillfully zipped through traffic. The motorcycle turned off the main streets and roared down smaller cross-streets. They finally stopped in a small park. The street was deserted.

Neal got off, taking in his surroundings before turning back to his new ride. She was holding a gun.

"Whoa!"

She flipper her visor up. "Care to explain why there's Feds all over the meet?"

Neal flashed an innocent smile. "I didn't bring them."

She smiled at that, her eyes crinkling up, but after a pause got back to business. "You got the money?"

Neal held up the briefcase.

"Show me."

Neal popped the case open and turned it around to show her the stacks of bills. "It's all here."

"Throw it over here."

"I'd like to see the painting first-" He wanted to authenticate it before giving the take-down signal. Which he hoped Peter was close enough to hear.

"I said, throw it!"

Neal sighed and did as he was told. Peter wasn't going to be happy.

She flipped through the bills, looking up quite often to check that Neal wasn't moving. "Fine. Catch." Producing a rolled up painting from within her jacket she threw it over.

Neal caught it easily. "Happy to do business with you."

She simply smiled, and got back on her bike. Peter wasn't here yet and she was going to get away. So Neal did the only thing he could: He put the painting down and, taking a running leap, tackled the bike just as it was about to take off. The bike skidded aside and they both fell heavily on the ground. Neal, enjoying the element of surprise, wrestled her down.

They were both breathing heavily and for an instant, time itself froze. Looking into her eyes, sparkling green, Neal could see his reflection and knew that she could read his innermost thoughts.

She didn't resist as he let go of her arms and reached for her helmet. Slowly he took it off, revealing light-brown hair. She looked at him for a long moment, their eyes searching each other. "You've got a funny way of doing business."

Neal shrugged with a quick grin. Instead he got to his feet, and offered her a hand up. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed his hand. Back on her feet, she dusted herself off. "Well?"

Neal was about to apologize, but then a siren in the distance broke the spell. The woman glanced sharply around, and then reached for her gun. Neal caught the movement and grabbed her hand. He'd just wrestled the gun out of her hand with a satisfied grunt when he realized she was holding a small can of mace in her other hand. He had no time to react before the spray hit him.

Neal pulled away with a shout, dropping to the ground as he pawed at his eyes.

Ignoring Neal, who was still rolling on the ground screaming, the woman picked up the painting from the place where he'd dropped it. Then she got the cash briefcase and remounted her bike. "Yeah," she was still panting from the exertion. "Happy to do business with you."

Neal had once been cutting jalapenos and accidently brushed his hand against his eyes. He'd washed his eyes immediately, but they still burned for a couple of hours after that. He'd never made that mistake again. This was a thousand times worse, and even worse than that. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but that internal fire that raged inside his head.

It seemed like ages before he felt a hand on his back. "Neal? Can you hear me?" It was Peter's voice. "Calm down, buddy, just calm down."

*****

Neal was choking for air by the time Peter arrived. Peter jumped out of the van before it came to a full stop. "We need an ambulance here!"

He rushed to his partner and kneeled by his side. "Neal? Can you hear me?" He scanned the area. The suitcase he had given Neal was gone, and he couldn't see any painting. Damn. "Calm down, buddy. Just calm down. "

Diana appeared by his side, water bottle in hand. "What do you think it is?"

"Probably pepper spray. Here, Neal." He unscrewed the top, "I've got some water here. Hold his hands."

Together they pried away Neal's hands from his eyes and Peter poured the water on Neal's face.

"Where's Jones' team?"

"On their way."

"We were barely five minutes behind Caffrey, the suspect couldn't have gotten far. Tell them to get NYPD to put up roadblocks."

*****

"How did this happen?" Peter was pacing his small office, stopping every now and then to turn to Neal, who was leaning back on the guest chair, wet towel over his eyes.

Neal removed the towel to look at Peter. His eyes were still red. "She spotted you." They've been going over this for over an hour now, and he really didn't see the point of rehashing it again.

"Us." Peter corrected him automatically. "She spotted us."

Neal thought that was exactly what he'd said.

"Boss," Diana popped her head in. "Traffic cams picked up the motorcycle a couple of blocks from where she dropped Caffrey, but she disappears after that."

"Damn." Peter put a hand to his head.

"NYPD have forensics working the scene. They'll notify us if they find anything."

"She was wearing gloves," Neal interjected.

Peter just nodded. He was sure forensics will find something. "Canvass the area. Somebody must have seen something."

Neal thought that sounded like a plan. "Peter, are we finished here?"

"Yeah, yeah." Peter stretched his shoulders. "Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

Neal sniffled. "Yeah, sure." He was not feeling alright at all. His eyes still watered and his lungs burned with every breath, but he had more important things to do than sit around here.

Peter looked at the other man with concern. He felt guilty – he was the one running the operation, and he should have foreseen any eventuality. "You want to come by for dinner? I'll drive you back later."

"I'd really love to, Peter. But I think I'd rather just go home and go to sleep."

Peter hesitated and then nodded. "Sure. Yeah, it's been a tough day." He clapped a hand on Neal's shoulder. "We'll get her. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm sure we will."

Callaway breezed by the door. "Peter, a word with you in my office?"

Neal stood up, and leaned close to Peter to whisper, "If she's going to chew your head off on my account.."

"Let me worry about Callaway. Here, I'll get an agent to drive you home."

After he took care of Neal's ride, Peter returned to his boss's office. She glanced up from her work and gestured him in. "Have a seat. What happened today? This was supposed to be an easy win."

Peter settled in the guest chair. "We underestimated our suspect. I assure you, it's not going to happen again."

Callaway leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Was this an inside job?"

Peter frowned. He hadn't expected the question. "What do you mean?"

"We're talking about a valuable painting and a large amount of cash, and it all hangs on Caffrey. If he's playing us-"

"Oh. No." Peter shook his head emphatically. "Definitely not."

"I understand you're protective of your CI, Peter. I do. But that's not enough. Convince me he didn't just steal $100,000 from the Bureau."

Peter went for the most obvious reason. "Well, for one, Neal would have chosen a much less painful way."

Amanda simply smiled at that.

Peter sighed. "Ok. Look, when I first started working with Neal, I was just as suspicious as you are, if not more. He's a master con. But the more I worked with him, the more I realized that he'll never use an FBI raid for easy cash. It’s not his style. Besides, Neal has laid his life on the line for us countless times."

Callaway looked at Peter intently. "You're saying you trust him."

Talk about a loaded question. Peter shifted in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he thought how best to answer. "I know Neal sometimes has his own thing going. He's not an agent, and I don't expect him to be as fully committed, and that's not a problem as long as it doesn't interfere with his job. So it's my job as his handler to ensure that he doesn't face any conflict of interest."

"And you're sure that wasn't the case here?"

Peter couldn't have been surer. "Caffrey was 100% on our side for this op."

The senior agent nodded slowly. "Fine. I want you to make catching this suspect your top priority."

"It already is." The woman had stepped on his turf, attacked a member of his team. This was personal.

"Good. One more thing. Have you heard about the Hammond Diamond theft?"

Peter shook his head. "Can't say I have."

"It's a pink diamond that was stolen last week from an Indian tourist in Memphis. Very rare and very valuable. It's making headlines back in India, and the DC top brass want it restored quickly."

"Okay." Peter frowned at that, "So what does this have to do with us? They think it's in New York?"

"I got a call from the SAIC down there. He called in a favor, and asked to borrow Caffrey."

"What?!-" Peter spluttered. Neal wasn't a library book and Peter didn't like the idea of him being ‘loaned out’ around the FBI. He'd become much more careful since Kramer's attempt to steal his CI.

Amanda put up a hand to stop Peter. "I told him Caffrey doesn’t go anywhere without his handler, and that it would be your decision. I don't want to reward him so quickly after today's events, but-"

"It's too good of an opportunity for him to pass up," Peter supplied.

"I was actually thinking about _you_ , Peter." The senior agent considered Peter for a moment. "The higher-ups might be willing to overlook Caffrey's behavior, but they expect a much higher standard from their agents. They don't like it when their agents are arrested for murder."

"I was framed." It had taken a few weeks for the FBI to catch James - a few weeks which had seemed like eternity at the time, but his name had been cleared and his position reinstated.

"Nonetheless. You need as many friends as you can get, Peter, and SAIC Johnson is a good man to have on your side. And if you help close this case; you'll get a lot of points in your favor in DC."

Peter didn't need it spelled out for him that Callaway would share in the credit.

"I don't want you this taking priority over any of your regular caseload. You can go down to Memphis over the weekend, as long as you're back here Monday morning. Meanwhile, Agent Johnson will send over the case file so you can start reviewing it."

"I'll look over it." Peter moved to leave.

"Just one more thing, Peter." Callaway raised a finger to stop him. "Caffrey screws up this badly in Memphis-"

"Neal did nothing wrong," Peter interrupted. "You can't blame him for this."

Amanda pursed her lips. "He took a risk, this time it didn't pan out." She'd made it clear to Peter in the past. She was willing to look the other way just as long as Caffrey brought her wins. "Besides," she added pointedly, "I'd rather have him take the blame than you."

Peter scowled at that, but said nothing. The threat was clear.

"If he screws up the Memphis case," Callaway continued, her quiet voice belying her words, "I'll look into reassigning him."

"His agreement with the bureau-"

"I've read his contract, Peter. The FBI can assign him wherever they see fit."

Peter sighed. This wasn't good. Not for him, not for Neal. He really missed Hughes.

*****

For years Mozzie had to listen to Neal ramble on about how Kate was The One. His one true love. The one and only. A cosmic happenstance. The stars aligning together in such a way that never happened before and never will again. All the speeches Mozzie gave him about love and conning not mixing, went in one ear and out the other. Trying to talk sense into a love-struck Neal was like.. well, like trying to talk sense into a love-struck Neal. Nothing helped.

Mozzie was the one who'd been there to pick up the pieces when Kate dumped Neal. Both times. He was the one Peter turned to after Kate was killed. Over the time that's passed since, Mozzie had convinced himself that Neal had been right. That lightning never strikes twice. That it will never happen again.

And yet, here he was, and it was all happening again. Like a nightmare.

Sitting across from Neal, he felt like thwapping his friend on his head, smacking some sense into him. And he would have, if he'd thought it would help.

Neal was sitting by his kitchen table, sketching his new One and Only. His eyes still hurt like hell, but this couldn't wait. His sketch was almost done, displaying a woman half turned towards the viewer, a slow smile spreading over her lips.

He felt just a little bit guilty that he hadn't told Peter he could make a sketch of the suspect. But Peter, with so many other things on his mind, hadn't asked, and Neal hadn't offered the information. Armed with a sketch, the FBI would go about their bumbling way finding her and would flood the city with it. Most chances, she would go on the run and Neal would never see her again. No, he wanted to talk to her first.

Finally satisfied, Neal carefully tore off the page and handed it reverently to Mozzie. "I need an address, Moz."

Despite his better judgment, Mozzie reached over to take the paper. He examined it for a full minute before he sighed and folded it over. She had a bit of Kate about her, though Mozzie would never voice that thought aloud to Neal. "Neal.."

But Neal wasn't listening. He was already busy sketching another one, wiping a sleeve across his eyes every now and then to keep the itching at bay.

Mozzie licked his lips and tried again. "Neal."

"Hm?"

"You know there's a chance we won't find her."

"I trust you." Neal didn't even look up, his brow furrowed as he sketched his new love's eyes. He took another piece of paper and started sketching them over and over again.

Mozzie thought it was creepy. "And even if we do, she maced you, man."

"Let me take care of that." Neal was humming a light tune to himself.

Like a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter happened to stand by the elevator banks when Neal arrived the next morning. Dressed in a chic suit, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses in a matching color scheme, he managed to look manly enough even as he broadcast to anybody who cared that he was injured and needed special attention.  
  
Peter wondered how long the con-man had spent in front of the mirror that morning.  
  
Neal was pretty sure Peter had been lying in wait for him, because the agent was right there the moment Neal stepped off the elevator, looking him up and down. He gave Peter a self-assured smile. "Morning, Peter."  
  
"Take those off," Peter waved at the glasses. Neal sighed, but complied. Peter looked into Neal's eyes. They were still reddish and irritated looking, but there was no question he looked better than yesterday. "How you feeling?"  
  
"I told you, a good night's sleep.." Neal was about to put his sunglasses back on, but Peter stopped him.  
  
"No, no, don't put them on in here." He turned to lead the way back into the office.  
  
With another sigh, Neal stashed his glasses in his jacket pocket. He had hoped Peter would let that pass. He didn't like the idea of facing everybody after ruining the op the previous night, and most probably having to lie to them today. He hurried after Peter, quickly matching the agent's strides. "What did Callaway want yesterday?"  
  
Peter shot him a look. He wasn't sure how much to tell Neal. His CI tended to do stupid things under pressure. He finally settled on the bottom line. "She wants us to close this case."  
  
"Hey, Caffrey, you doing ok?" Clinton stopped by to ask.  
  
"Just fine, Jones ,thanks."  
  
A few other agents clustered around, clapping the con-man on his shoulder. "We'll get her next time, Caffrey."  
  
Clinton grinned. "We've all been there, man."  
  
"What?" Diana joined the group. "Getting beaten up by a girl?"  
  
"Ha, ha. Very funny." Neal played along, but he actually enjoyed the other agents' concern. They cared, and they trusted him, and he didn't even have to con them to get their admiration. He was a lucky man, and he knew it.  
  
"OK, everybody," Peter decided he'd had enough, "let's give Neal a break. We've got work to do."  
  
A few minutes later, Peter was standing at the front of the conference room. "As you all know, yesterday wasn't one of our better days. We're going to learn from our mistakes and make sure next time we catch up with our suspect, and I assure you – we will – we will not repeat them."  
  
"Let's start with the café." Peter brought up the slide showing a map of the planned meet area. "The van was here, and we had people stationed here, here and here. Obviously, we were spotted." Neal listened attentively as Peter sketched out yesterday's events from the FBI's point of view.  
  
"The suspect approached Neal and offered to move the meet."  
  
Neal was about to correct Peter – it wasn't an offer, really - but Peter held up a hand to stop him. "Neal decided to continue with the swap, and we would have had her had it not been for traffic. Instead, we've got this."  
  
Peter pressed a key on his laptop and Neal's recorded voice sounded. "Whoa!"  
  
"That's when she pulled out a gun," Neal commented.  
  
Peter let the rest of Neal's meeting with the woman play out, stopping right before she attacked Neal. Neal was thankful for small mercies. He wasn't proud of the way things had evolved from that point on.  
  
"Neal, what's your impression?" Peter asked, drawing Neal out of his reverie.  
All the agents in the room turned their attention to the CI. He leaned back in his chair. "Well, she definitely knew what she was doing," he didn't bother hiding the awe in his voice. "She got away clean."  
  
"She chose a spot with no cameras." Diana added.  
  
Neal nodded. "Yeah, and she picked you guys out like nothing."  
  
Something about Neal's turn of phrase made Peter's skin prickle, but he didn't have time to analyze it before Jones added with a smile, "Like a female Zorro."  
  
Everybody turned to look at the presentation displayed on the wall, showing a surveillance photo of a black-dressed masked figure.  
  
Peter rolled his eyes. He did not want to be cast as the bumbling law-enforcement officer who upheld tyranny and injustice. Besides, dealing in stolen paintings did not count as 'helping the poor'. "What I don't get is why she even risked it. She realized she was walking into an FBI trap."  
  
"Maybe she thought the money was worth it," Clinton suggested.  
  
"Yeah, or maybe she enjoyed the rush." Peter looked round the room at his team, "Well, Zorro or not, she's not going to get away with it. So far we got a BOLO out for the bike, we've got DNA evidence from the swap meet, but nothing's matching so far. I want ideas, people."  
  
Neal had plenty of ideas, but none he felt like sharing with the FBI just yet. He had to handle this carefully.  
  
The meeting wound down and the room was emptying when Peter stopped Neal on his way out. "Don't worry about this, mistakes happen."  
  
"I know."  
  
"If you want to talk about it-"  
  
"- Your door is always open. I know. Don't worry, Peter." Neal smiled his most calming smile.  
  
It was a smile Peter knew all too well, one that set off his internal alarms. Neal was planning something, and Peter was sure he wasn't going to like it. But he'd have to deal with that later. "You heard about the Hammond Diamond theft?"  
  
Neal's eyes flashed with interest. "Who hasn't?"  
  
"It's high profile and they're under pressure to close it quickly. You've got experience with diamond thefts, don't you?"  
  
Neal could see where this was going, and he beamed with pride. "They want my help?"  
  
Peter nodded. Neal had avoided answering his question, but that was just par for the course. "The Memphis office asked for your expertise. And this might be an opportunity for you."  
  
"For me?"  
  
"Yeah. You help them out here, it will be a huge mark in your favor, and if you start networking now, once you're free, you'll have your connections in place."  
  
Neal didn't look impressed. "In Memphis."  
  
"Well, it's a start." Peter grinned, "And they'd be willing to pick up the tab."  
  
Whichever way, Neal was not going to pass up an opportunity to get out and show off. "When do I leave?"  
  
"We." Peter corrected. "We're going. Friday, as soon as I square away the paperwork."  
  
Neal hadn't really expected to be allowed to get on a plane alone. Not after his previous escape. But you couldn't fault him for trying. "Friday. That's two days from now."  
  
"That's right." Peter handed Neal a thick file. "So you better start reading up on the case."  
  
Neal weighed the file in his hands. "No problem."  
  
Sitting by his desk a few minutes later, he picked up the phone to call Mozzie. He'd need a few additional files if he was going to handle this case.  
  
*****  
  
June had a few old suitcases stashed away in the closet. They were dusty, but in pretty good condition. Neal had cleaned one up and had started packing for his upcoming trip when Mozzie walked in, crowing. "I've spun my web far and wide, my friend. Nobody, _nobody_ , can slip past me."  
  
Neal poked his head out of the closet. "You found her?"  
  
But Mozzie's attention was drawn by the open suitcase on the bed. "You're running? Without telling me?"  
  
Neal rolled his eyes. "It's for my Memphis trip."  
  
"Oh. Right." Mozzie took it all in stride. "Tell Elvis I said 'hi'."  
  
Neal picked a couple of dress shirts and laid them out on the bed. "I doubt we'll have a lot of time to sightsee, let alone visit with the ghosts of conspiracies past."  
  
Mozzie shrugged.  
  
"Come on, where is she?"  
  
Mozzie raised a finger. "Before I deliver - let me reiterate once again, that I think this is a terrible idea."  
  
Neal crossed his arms across his chest. "Noted."  
  
"And that she almost shot you dead."  
  
Neal threw his hands up. "She sprayed me with mace, Moz. I'll live."  
  
"My point exactly."  
  
"And that's because I attacked her."  
  
"If you ask me, you should hand her over to the Suits and-"  
  
"Moz!" Neal waited for silence before continuing. "I didn't ask you. Can you tell me where she is?"  
  
Mozzie paused for full dramatic effect. "The Waldorf-Astoria." A swanky hotel wouldn't have been Mozzie's first choice for a criminal on the run. Which was just the more reason to be suspicious of this girl.  
  
Neal, on the other hand, was quite impressed. "I knew she has style," he grinned at the thought. "You're sure she's there?"  
  
"My source recognized her 100%, and he owes me big time. Said he's seen her around from the beginning of the week. Thinks she's staying in one of the top suites."  
  
Neal clapped his friend's arm. "Thanks, Moz."  
  
"You won't be as thankful when I have to arrange your funeral."  
  
Neal turned to his closet to consider his evening wear options. "I wouldn't order the casket just yet."  
  
Mozzie considered him for a short moment. "I was thinking cremation. You'll look good in an urn."  
  
Neal shook his head, thinking he should make a will before it really came down to Moz taking care of his final farewell to the world.  
  
*****  
  
Leaning against a pillar in the hotel lobby, Neal scanned the area over an open newspaper. According to Mozzie's source, the girl he was after usually spent her days out, coming back in the evenings. But he was already waiting for over an hour and he'd seen no sign of her.  
Neal was about to try checking the rooms upstairs when he saw her crossing the lobby. He dropped the newspaper and fell in step with her. "Hey."  
  
She glanced at him, and froze in her tracks, shooting suspicious looks all around.  
  
He raised his hands to show he meant well. "I'm not here for the painting."  
  
She looked at him askance.  
  
"Or the money."  
  
She clearly didn't believe him.  
  
"I owe you an apology." Neal grinned at her. "Let me buy you a drink, we'll talk." He lifted his hand in solemn oath, "I swear, you say the word, I won't bother you again."  
  
At the bar he ordered two glasses of wine. She took a small sip, but then put the glass down. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"I think we can work together."  
  
"Really." She looked him up and down. "What makes you think that?"  
  
He shrugged with a quick smile. "You're new in town, and I know the ropes. We could make a great team."  
  
Her eyes narrowed at that. "What makes you think I'm new in town?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure I would have heard about you, otherwise."  
  
She ducked her head, accepting the compliment.  
  
Neal grinned at her, warming up to his pitch. "You stole that Forain last week in Pittsburgh, and here you are fencing it."  
  
"Who said I stole it?" Her eyes were fixed on him now.  
  
"It was a very impressive hit, and I know talent when I see it." Neal sipped his wine, letting her think that over.  
  
She took a sip of her glass. "So, what's your offer? You want to fence my pieces?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"Problem is, I don’t trust you."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Where shall I start? You've got the FBI tailing you."  
  
Neal glanced at her, innocent as could be. "Who said they were tailing me?"  
  
She laughed at that. "You think they were tailing  _me_?"  
  
"It's a possibility."  
  
"Very unlikely. You see.." she leaned in closer to him, running a finger down his dress shirt. "I make sure to never get caught."  
  
He breathed in her fragrance. "I don't plan on getting caught either."  
  
She pulled away. Still keeping her eyes locked on his, she produced his wallet. He hadn't even noticed she'd picked it off him. "You can tell a lot about a man from his wallet."  
  
He gave his most charming smile. "I’ve got nothing to hide."  
  
He had, of course, a lot to hide. He always carried his FBI consultant badge with him. It had proven quite useful over the years, though he was sure Peter wouldn't have approved of most of the times he'd pulled it out. Right now, though, it could spell disaster. He watched her carefully as she examined his wallet.  
  
"Hm. We’ll see about that." She flicked through his credit cards, and his different aliases. "What's your name?"  
  
"Neal Caffrey." He was disappointed to see not even a spark of recognition, but it just made it more obvious she was new to New York.  
  
"Is that your real name?"  
  
"It’s as real as it’s going to get."  
  
And there it was. Her smile disappeared when she pulled out his FBI ID. She shot him a quick look, before going on to scan the rest of the bar. "So you're a Fed, uh? What’s your plan? Keep me occupied while your friends set up position?"  
  
"That’s a fake, just like the others," Neal lied easily.  
  
"Looks pretty real to me. You still say you didn't bring the Feds to the swap?"  
  
"I swear."  
  
She dropped the wallet on the bar and stood up.  
  
"Wait." He reached for her hand. "I’m not with the FBI, I promise."  
  
"You stand by your promises?"  
  
"Always."  
  
She smiled slyly at him. "Then don’t bother me again." She snatched her hand away from his and walked off without another word.  
  
Neal forced himself to remain seated. Trying to chase her now was going to be counterproductive. Instead he took out the wallet he'd picked off her and glanced through its contents. Two could play this game. There were a few bills and a California driver’s license under the name Jennifer Heisner. At least now he had a name.  
  
*****  
  
That evening Neal sat by his table and stared morosely at his sketchbook, paging through page after page of the sketches he'd made of his new love. How had he messed this up? He'd met true love and he'd let it slip through his fingers. Again.  
  
It didn't hurt any less this time around.  
  
Mozzie, sitting at the head of the table, cleared his throat. "Neal, for guys like us.." He stopped short when Neal got up and without another word stepped out to his patio. Mozzie sipped at his wine contemplatively. It was a shame it had to get to this stage. It was a shame that Neal had to suffer. It would take some time for him to recover, but, Mozzie figured, the worst was behind them.  
  
Out on the terrace, Neal leaned against the railing. He closed his eyes and let the wind play against his skin. He wished it could freeze him solid, take away the pain that was solidifying in his chest. Mozzie didn't - couldn't - understand him. The game was Mozzie's real love and he never let anybody or anything get in its way. But Neal knew that with all of his own brave talk about running at a moment's notice, he couldn't do that. Mozzie had left New York without looking back while Neal had spent his weeks on the island pining away for the people and places he'd left behind.  
  
He opened his eyes, staring out towards the city around him. What else could he have said? There had to be something. Something that would have reached past Jennifer's defenses and touched her heart. Wasn't he a master at telling what people wanted and giving it to them? So what had gone wrong?  
  
His phone rang, forcing him back to the present. It was Peter, and for a second or so, Neal considered not answering. But then his sense of duty took over. Besides, Peter still had a little fire of suspicion going. It was better not to stoke it.  
  
"Peter!" There was no trace in his Neal's voice of his inner turmoil. "What's happening?"  
  
Peter's excitement was practically tangible over the line. "I know how we can catch our Zorro."  
  
Ok, so it had been a mistake to answer the phone. Neal wasn't sure he could stomach this conversation. But before he could frame a response, Peter continued on. "The painting you were going to swap."  
  
"Yeah. Forain's 'Dancer'."  
  
"That's it. It was stolen from a gallery in Pittsburgh. We assumed until now that we're dealing with a fence, but what if we're not?"  
  
Despite himself, Neal was drawn in to answer. "Not what?"  
  
"Over the past couple of months we've had three unsolved gallery robberies right here in Manhattan."  
  
"So?"  
  
"No trace of a suspect, yet. I say we have a new art thief in town," Peter ended on a triumphant note.  
  
Now Neal was sure he wasn't in the mood for this conversation. "Look, Peter-"  
  
"Yeah, it's late, we'll talk about it tomorrow morning. Oh, also, our flight's at noon, so we'll leave to the airport from the office. Bring whatever you need with you."  
  
Their flight to Memphis. It had completely slipped Neal's mind. "About that.. Peter, I don't think I'm up for it." A couple of seconds of silence ticked by, leaving Neal to wonder if Peter was still on the line. "Peter?"  
  
"Look, Neal, I realize you've been under some pressure lately, but you're going to be fine."  
  
Neal exhaled slowly. Peter thought he was having performance anxiety.  
  
"Yeah, that's not the problem."  
  
"So what is?"  
  
Neal wasn't sure what to answer to that. Even if he'd told Peter the bare bones story, he couldn't see Peter being any more understanding. He'd probably tell Neal to cowboy up or something. Forget the girl and get on with life.  
  
Getting no response from Neal, Peter continued, "If I tell Callaway now that you're not going, she'd want to know why. What do you want me to tell her?"  
  
Neal swallowed hard at the thought of the two FBI agents discussing his love life. "Peter, I'm just.. I don't feel ready."  
  
That didn't sound convincing even to Neal, so he wasn't that surprised when Peter didn't buy it.  
  
"Cowboy up, Neal. This could be the beginning of a really good thing for you." Peter paused. "OK?"  
  
It wasn't so much a question as much as it was an order. It took Neal a few moments to force himself to say it. "Yeah. OK."  
  
"Good. Good. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
On his end, Peter disconnected the call and let out a sigh of frustration.  
  
El looked up from where she'd been working on her account book. "Trouble with Neal?"  
  
"I don't know.. " Peter shook his head, his previous feeling of exhilaration already dissipating. "He wanted to back out of the Memphis case."  
  
Elizabeth frowned. "Really? Why?"  
  
Peter shrugged. "I don't know. He slipped on that swap a couple of days ago, but he's been fine since."  
  
"Maybe that's it. He might be putting on a brave front, but I mean, Neal's not used to things not going his way."  
  
"Yeah, but I get the feeling that there's something else going on. It just doesn't make sense. A couple of hours ago he was looking forward to this trip." Peter got up to get his laptop. He didn't actually expect Neal to have gone anywhere, but he thought he might as well look it up.  
  
Connecting to the tracking data server, he input Neal's code, and asked for a run-through of that evening, going back from the current time. Neal was home, as expected, but when the tracker showed him "leaving", it wasn't straight back to the office as Peter expected.  
  
"Ah!" Peter exclaimed in surprise. "The Waldorf-Astoria."  
  
"What?" Elizabeth asked, having stopped mid-calculation.  
  
"Neal. After work he went to the Waldorf-Astoria. Spent an hour there." Peter sighed and closed down the laptop. "I don't get it." He was pretty sure something had happened there, but what?  
  
Unbidden, Agent Callaway’s words came to mind. A valuable painting gone, a whole suitcase full of unmarked bills, and Neal in the middle of it all. And now his CI was suddenly conducting secret meetings in luxury hotels. Meetings he obviously didn’t want to discuss with Peter. Peter hated himself for even thinking about it, but what if Callaway was right?  
  
He didn't believe that Neal would do it for the money, not for a paltry hundred grand, but he's been blackmailed before into committing crimes. Peter hadn't forgotten the lesson of the Pascal case, and he didn't fool himself: Neal still saw crime as an option, especially if he felt he had no other way out.  
  
He'd reviewed the taped audio of the swap several times, and there was no hint that Neal had colluded with the thief, but it was still possible he was missing something.  
  
"Hon?" Elizabeth broke his musings. "You went off somewhere there."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." He shook himself awake. "I just hope Neal hasn’t gotten himself into serious trouble."  
  
His wife tilted her head and gave him that look that said he was getting overly paranoid. "Because he stopped at the Astoria this evening?"  
  
Peter realized it sounded stupid. Neal and his chicken sexers aside, gut instinct wasn't easy to explain. "Yeah."  
  
"Why don't you ask him what he was doing there?" El asked, quite reasonably.  
  
Peter sighed. "Because things are never that simple with Neal." He had to admit, though, deep-down inside, that El's words made sense. He should ask Neal.  
  
*****  
  
Mozzie had disappeared by the time Neal re-entered his apartment. He took a look in his closet, but he found he had no energy to pack. Instead he sat down on his bed, scratching restlessly at his anklet. Jennifer might already be far, far gone, and he was wasting time on a stupid FBI case. If only. If only he wasn't encumbered by the anklet, if only Peter didn't expect him to jump at his every request. If only things had gone differently.  
  
There had to be a way to get her to change her mind.  
  
When Peter had come up to Sing Sing, Neal had been sure he could convince the FBI agent to take his deal. He knew Peter, knew that he would jump at an opportunity to catch a criminal he'd been chasing for years. He'd been so sure, in fact, that it had never occurred to him that he'd be turned down. That he'd have to return to his cell, knowing that he's facing more than four years of additional time.  
  
 _"Sorry, Neal. Nice try."_  
  
For weeks Neal could barely sleep, that short conversation with Peter playing over and over in his head, trying to figure out what he could have done or said differently to convince the FBI agent to take him on as a consultant.  
  
But then.. he  _had_  managed to convince Peter. It had just taken more time than he'd figured. Time he didn't have right now.  
  
This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. He just knew it. He hadn't met this girl just so she could leave him.  
  
He found himself by the easel, stretching a new canvas, mixing paint.  
  
Painting had always helped him relax. The blank canvas was a calling, an invitation to become somebody else. Wielding a brush, he would let all his thoughts slip away, and take on a new persona, that of the artist, the wizard who could make whatever he wanted come alive. It was the biggest con of all.  
  
He closed his eyes, letting his frustrations fall away. And when he opened them, his blue eyes shone clear and bright. He dipped his brush in the paint, and with broad, sure strokes started applying it to the canvas.  
  
*****  
  
Neal woke up with a start. The morning sun was already starting to make its way up the sky. He'd fallen asleep in one of his armchairs, his palette and brushes had dropped on the floor by his side. He lifted a hand to brush his hair away, only to discover his hands were covered in paint.  
  
He got up to wash his hands, but stopped to look at the painting. It was standing half finished: a general outline of a woman, green eyes sparkling.  
  
Picking up the brushes from the floor, he ran his finger along the soft brush edge. Mozzie was right. "Happy endings aren't for guys like us," he said, to no one in particular. It was a thought too hard to bear. With a shout of frustration he threw the paintbrushes across the room, splattering paint across the hardwood floor.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he tried to get himself back under control. He was already late. He had to get going before Peter sent a search party for him.  
  
He quickly packed the rest of what he needed for this trip. Peter might be able to handle a whole weekend with one suit, but he had to be prepared for any eventuality.  
  
Finally closing the latches shut, he gave one last regretful look to his half-finished painting and headed out.  
  
*****  
  
"You're late," Peter said pointedly when Neal entered the conference room.  
  
Neal lifted his suitcase a couple of inches. "I was packing."  
  
It was one of Byron's vintage suitcases. Peter was sure that if he would try it, he would just end up looking clunky. Neal, on the other hand, carried it off with style. Peter pointed to one of the available chairs around the long table. "Have a seat."  
  
Neal glanced at the presentation slide: a map of New York marking out various recent robberies. "You think 'Zorro' is responsible for all those?"  
  
Peter picked up on something in Neal's voice. "Impressed?"  
  
"Yeah." Neal didn't see a reason to hide it. "But are you sure it's not wishful thinking?"  
  
"We'll see. Neal, I want you to check the word on the street. If she's active, somebody must know about it. Diana, Jones, I want you to shake down known fences. If she's trying to sell new loot, I want to know about it.."  
  
Neal's attention wandered as he looked at the map, his mind still worrying over his meeting with Jennifer last night. He couldn't accept 'no' for an answer. They were meant for each other. There was an attraction between them, something beyond the mere physical. He could feel it, and he was sure she could too.  
  
A shudder of his phone announced an incoming message, and Neal unobtrusively checked it. He'd asked Mozzie to check up on Jennifer. Mozzie's update was brief and to the point: "Gone". It was a good thing he was sitting down.  
  
Maybe Mozzie was right from the beginning. There was no good reason to keep the information he had from Peter. Not anymore. He'd given it his best shot and had hit a brick wall. Now it was time to use the FBI. Peter will most probably give Neal some grief about not coming forward immediately, but Neal didn't expect any serious repercussions.  
  
Peter noticed Neal busy with his phone and bit down an impulse to call the young man to order. Whatever Neal was up to, Peter was going to get to the bottom of it.  
  
The meeting was winding down and Neal got up from his seat and approached Peter. "Peter.."  
  
Peter shut the file he was holding. "So.. you went to the Waldorf-Astoria last night?"  
  
Neal looked up sharply. "You checked my anklet?"  
  
"Yeah. I do that sometimes." Peter looked at Neal carefully. Neal had deflected the question; a sign there was something to hide. "So?"  
  
The words on Neal's lips died away. Peter suspected him, was following up on his moves. Why couldn't the guy trust him? He shrugged nonchalantly. "Just, felt like having a normal dinner."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Right." Peter didn't really believe him, but he couldn't say that outright. He noticed a smudge of paint on Neal's cheek, and his gut churned in response. "You’ve been painting?"  
  
It was half interrogation, half accusation. "What?"  
  
Peter flicked a finger towards the paint splotch, and Neal hurried to wipe it off. "Well?"  
  
"I didn't realize painting was a crime."  
  
Once again Neal had deflected the question. "Depends what you did it for." Peter held Neal's gaze.  
  
Neal couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation. "I thought we were past this by now."  
  
"So did I." Peter put a supportive hand on Neal's arm. "Look, Neal if there's anything I need to know about.."  
  
"I would tell you." Neal hesitated. What had set Peter's suspicions off? "Is this about Memphis?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
"Last night.. you were right, after this past week, I wasn't sure I could handle it. I'm over it now."  
  
"Good." Peter clapped Neal's shoulder. Something was wrong, he could sense it, and if Neal wasn't going to share with him, he'd have to find some other way to find out what the problem was.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing at the Memphis International arrivals lounge, Peter and Neal scanned the awaiting crowd. Peter had been assured that one of the local agents will meet them at the gate and accompany them from there.  
  
The flight to Memphis wasn't as bad as Neal's last trip aboard a plane. Nothing could compare to the thrill of being a captured fugitive, being brought home by the man who'd just recently shot you for the fun of it. But, as far as comparisons went, it was pretty close. Neither TSA nor the airline were very impressed with Neal's FBI consultant's badge. He was still a convict. And so the TSA subjected him to a full search every step of the way. The airline required convicts in transit to be cuffed throughout the duration of the flight, and for his accompanying guard – that is, Peter – to stay with him at all times. Fun.  
  
Peter had steeled himself for three whole hours of whining and complaining, but Neal had surprised him, and instead busied himself with reviewing the case-file, adding notes in elegant Caffrey script on the margins.  
  
Whenever Peter tried to bring up yesterday, or just start off some small talk, Neal very politely brushed him off. He'd love to talk, but he was busy. Peter could understand the pressure the guy was currently under, but he made a mental note to find some time later to catch a chat with Neal. He fully intended to find out what was going on before they boarded the plane back.  
  
"Hey, look," Neal pointed to a smartly dressed woman. She was holding a sign 'Burke'. "You're famous."  
  
Peter gave him a sideways glance. "I'm not the one with my face in every post office."  
  
Neal grinned. "Come on."  
  
The two approached the agent, with Peter introducing them both. "Hi, I'm Agent Peter Burke, this is Neal Caffrey."  
  
The woman smiled broadly, quite relieved to be able to put down her sign. The two agents from New York were practically the last ones off the plane. "Agent Gilmore."  
  
Neal opened his eyes wide. "Agent Kelly Gilmore?"  
  
At the woman's nod he turned to Peter. "Remember the O'Connor case? Gilmore, she's the one who cracked it, brought down the entire network."  
  
Peter's smile tightened. He had no doubt that up until two days ago Neal had never heard of either Gilmore or the O'Connor case.  
  
"Come on, Peter, remember you told us to watch and learn?"  
  
"Yeah.. I-" Peter hedged.  
  
Gilmore rushed to his rescue. "It was a long time ago."  
  
But Neal was nothing if not persistent. "Why, just a year ago, wasn't it?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"Two. Wow, how time flies." Neal turned to Peter again. "You remember, right?"  
  
Peter shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "It's really been a long flight, I just don't-"  
  
Gilmore smiled uncertainly. "Right, right. I assume you want to stop by your motel first, after your flight? "  
  
Neal was on a roll. "Oh, no, no, no. We've rested enough on the plane. It would be a shame to waste time now."  
  
He didn't miss the questioning glance she shot Peter. Making sure he was on-board with his CI's pronouncements. Peter wished Neal would tone it down, but Neal did have a point. "Yeah, Neal's right. We don't have a lot of time. We should get down to business."  
  
She considered them both for a moment before nodding. "Right. Well, if you do need to rest up, we've got a couple of foldaways at HQ too. "  
"What fun," Peter muttered under his breath.  
  
*****  
  
The Memphis FBI building was just like every other Federal building Neal had ever seen. Drab and boring. He was pretty sure it was listed somewhere as one of the architectural requirements. Same guards at the entrance, same elevator. Almost as if he didn't leave New York.  
  
At the entrance to the Memphis White Collar division they were met by SAIC Chris Johnson. He was just slightly shorter than Neal, shrewd eyes, driven. Neal decided he wasn't going to be an easy nut to crack.  
  
Johnson shook both their hands at Gilmore's introductions. "Thanks for coming down, both of you."  
  
"We're here to help," Peter replied.  
  
Neal looked as earnest as possible when he added, "Thank you for this opportunity, sir"  
  
"Well, I need to close some bureaucratic issues with Agent Burke. Kelly," he turned to his agent, "we'll be starting the meeting in ten-fifteen minutes. Why don't you show Mr. Caffrey here where's our coffee corner?"  
  
Having filled in the necessary paperwork for the upcoming mission, Peter came out of Johnson's office and caught sight of Neal. His CI was already surrounded by a few of the local agents, who were probably curious about their new guest, flashing smiles and charm all over.  
  
"Not ready, my ass," Peter shook his head. He had a sneaking suspicion that Neal could rattle the personal details of every agent here off the top of his head. And possibly those of their children and pets too.  
  
"What's that?" The SAIC came to join him.  
  
"Oh.." Peter hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "Nothing."  
  
"He's very sociable, your CI," Johnson commented after a short pause.  
  
"He is," Peter agreed. "That's one of his main strengths."  
  
"I hope he's everything he's cracked up to be-"  
  
"He's much more," Peter quickly assured him.  
  
Johnson considered Neal for a moment. "I certainly hope so. This is a very sensitive operation, and we've got a lot riding on its success."  
Peter shot the other man a glance. "I thought you asked for him specifically."  
  
"I did. We're desperate," Johnson admitted with a quiet smile. "But I never know with these guys. It's always a risk."  
  
"Well, Neal's got his own style, but he delivers results."  
  
"Guess we'll soon find out."  
  
A couple of minutes later they were all in the conference room. The agents were all giving up their weekend for this operation, but they were all determined to win this one.  
  
"I'd like to welcome Agent Peter Burke, down from the New York Office, and his CI, Mr. Neal Caffrey. They're both here to help out with the Hammond case."  
  
As Johnson continued discussing the case, Peter leaned back in his chair, taking in the group around the table. They were all listening to their boss. Even Neal was sitting attentively, with none of his usual wise-ass comments. Peter tried thinking back to Neal's first days in New York White Collar. He couldn't remember his CI being this polite. Knowing Neal as well as he did, he wasn't even sure it was a good thing.  
  
The local White Collar team had already zeroed in on their suspects, a gang led by the two Scossi brothers. But they still had trouble getting the evidence they needed to close the case. Various ideas were batted back and forth, as to how they should be approached.  
  
It was getting quite late when the SAIC glanced at his watch. "Let's take a break."  
  
*****  
  
It was a long and tiring climb up to Neal's apartment. El sometimes wondered if that wasn't the reason Neal had chosen the place. It discouraged visitors and gave him plenty of warning when one came.  
  
Knowing that both Neal and Peter were away, Mozzie had invited her over for a book club meeting. She didn't have anything else planned for the evening and it sounded like a fun idea.  
  
The door to Neal's apartment was wide open. Mozzie was already there, looking through Neal's wine collection. Elizabeth gestured vaguely to the hallway behind her. "June said she'll be coming up soon, she's just waiting on the cookies."  
  
Mozzie nodded.  
  
Elizabeth looked around. The apartment was otherwise empty. "Where's everybody else?"  
  
Mozzie blinked at her in surprise. "What?"  
  
"The other people. That, you know.." Elizabeth trailed off, realization dawning. This was ridiculous. It hadn't occurred to her to ask, but obviously there  _were_  no other people. It was going to be June, Mozzie and herself.  
  
Since Mozzie was otherwise engaged, Elizabeth used the time to walk about, glancing curiously around. She didn't usually have an opportunity to look around Neal's apartment. She stopped by the easel. "Wow." She didn't usually have a chance to view Neal's work. It was exquisite. She glanced at Mozzie. "Who is this?"  
  
Mozzie broke away from his search long enough to glance over in El's direction. "Somebody Neal met."  
  
Elizabeth was still transfixed. It was a work in progress, but Neal had managed to bring the girl to life with just a few strokes. Her eyes were enchanting. "It's beautiful." She never understood why Neal didn't go into the art world legally. He had such talent. She couldn't believe that his paintings wouldn't sell.  
  
Out of sight of Mrs. Suit, Mozzie just rolled his eyes. He had Neal going gaga over this girl, he didn't feel like having a whole discussion with Elizabeth about her too.  
  
Elizabeth was going to ask more, but just then her phone rang. It was Peter. "Hey, Honey, how are things going?"  
  
"Fine, fine."  
  
She lowered her voice, stepping away from the easel and towards the patio. "Neal's doing better?"  
  
"Hard to tell. Looks like he's already got the agents here under his spell."  
  
She smiled at that. It sounded like Neal. "That's good, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but you never know with Neal."  
  
Through the patio doors, Elizabeth glanced at Mozzie, who was deep in a phone conversation of his own.  
  
  
Mozzie couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Suit didn't want him listening to her call. He was about to sidle up to the patio door and have a listen when his phone rang. "Hey, Neal? How's Memphis?"  
  
Neal ignored the invitation for small talk. "Did you find anything?"  
  
Mozzie glanced over at Elizabeth. She was engrossed in her own conversation. "Oh. Yes, your now ex-girlfriend has checked out."  
  
"I can live without the commentary, Moz. Any idea where she'd gone?"  
  
"Why are you whispering?"  
  
Neal's frustration was almost tangible down the line. "Because Peter's right here. Did you find anything else?"  
  
Mozzie shot another look towards Mrs. Burke. She seemed to be finishing up her call. "No."  
  
"Try to find something, Moz. Anything. I'll be in touch later."  
  
Moz considered the phone for a minute before stashing it back in his pocket. He had a book club meeting to chair. He had people on the lookout, more than that he couldn't offer.  
  
Neal hung up the phone only to turn around and discover Peter standing over him. "Everything OK?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I just, uh, thought I left the gas on." Neal tapped his phone, "I wanted Mozzie to make sure everything's OK."  
  
"Left the gas on." Peter repeated in disbelief.  
  
"Yeah. Look, I was pretty rushed last night, what with all the packing and everything, and the-"  
  
And there was the whining. "OK, OK," Peter held up a hand to stop the barrage of words. "I get it. You've become the harried housewife."  
  
Neal just shook his head.  
  
*****  
  
Gilmore had been tasked with driving the guests from New York to their accommodations for the weekend. It turned out to be a comfortable looking motel. She'd hurried on in to take care of registration and signing in, leaving Peter and Neal to handle their luggage. Peter had obviously been expecting more, since his disappointment was clearly written on his face. "I thought we were special guests."  
  
Neal shot him a look. "Cowboy up, Peter. We're only going to be staying here a couple of days."  
  
Peter was about to respond, but realized that Neal was already halfway through the lobby. He hurried after him. "How about we get rid of these suitcases and go out and see the sights?"  
  
Neal stopped at that. "See the sights."  
  
"Yeah. You know, it's not every day we get to be tourists."  
  
Neal hesitated. "I'd love to, Peter. Really. But it's been such a long day," he swallowed a yawn.  
  
"Right." Now it was Peter's turn to hesitate. He'd been hoping he could find a time to just talk, but Neal was certainly right that it's been a tough day so far. "Right. So maybe tomorrow?"  
  
Neal smiled. "Sure."  
  
It took a while until he finally got the keys to his room, but finally safe behind a locked door, Neal's face registered relief. He could finally get down to business.  
  
First things first, he tried calling Mozzie. No answer. He'll try again later.  
  
His room was small and functional. Not the kind of place he usually preferred, but right now he had more important things to worry about. Putting his suitcase on the bed, he popped the latches open. The TSA agents had gone through everything, leaving nothing untouched. As if he was going to smuggle anything under the nose of his FBI handler. He sighed as he surveyed the mess, than started taking out his clothing to hang them up.  
  
He'd left his sketch pad at home, knowing it would probably be found if he was searched. He didn't want strangers looking it over, commenting, maybe it even getting back to Peter. No, that wouldn't do.  
  
But he hadn't come empty handed. He took out his wallet, and removed Jennifer's driver's license. Jennifer. Her mug shot looked back at him. How had he messed it all up?  
  
At least he now had a name. Sitting back down on the bed, he felt the plastic card, bringing it up to the light to squint at it. It was a real license, as far as he could tell. It was so frustrating. Peter could have easily pulled a file on this woman if he'd wanted to, with all of the FBI's resources at his disposal.  
  
Of course, Neal turned the idea over in his mind, he  _also_  had the FBI's resources at his disposal. It wasn't as easy for him, but it wasn't impossible, either. And He wasn't in New York, where the agents were wary of his every move, and informed Peter of any requests that he made for information. He just had to find a way to make use of those resources without attracting undue attention.  
  
*****  
  
"Neal?" Peter knocked on the door to the adjoining room. "We need to go." He knocked again, straining against the door to try and hear whether his partner was up and about.  
  
"Morning, Peter." Neal appeared at his elbow, out of nowhere. Dressed to the nines, two paper cups of coffee in his hands.  
  
"Where did you come from?"  
  
Neal grinned, and handed over one of the cups. "You're welcome."  
  
Peter gave it a cautious sniff. "Where is this from?"  
  
Neal's smile disappeared from his face. "I can't get my favorite FBI agent a cup of coffee without going through an interrogation?"  
  
"Yeah, sorry." Peter took a small sip. It wasn't bad. "Favorite, eh?" He shot Neal a wry glance, "I thought you found yourself a new agent to admire. What was it? The O'Connor case?"  
  
Neal just shook his head at that. "Come on, we've got a case to solve."  
  
Out on the street, walking towards the Federal Building, Peter tried to strike up a conversation again. "So.. this is quite the historic moment, isn't it? The first time Neal Caffrey's been out of New York legally for the past decade." Neal sighed at that. Peter tended to get melodramatic at times. "How do you like Memphis so far?"  
  
Neal glanced around carelessly. "I miss New York."  
  
"Didn't seem to bother you when you went on your little three hour tour to Cape Verde."  
  
Neal's mouth closed to a thin line. "You weren't there."  
  
Peter realized he'd stepped too far, and quickly backpedaled. "No, you're right." After they walked down another block, Peter tried again. "So, you're ready for your first mission?"  
  
*****  
  
The Memphis FBI used a UPS type truck for their undercover surveillance, emblazoned with the logo of a non-existent delivery company. It was slightly smaller than the NY van, and just like everything else about the FBI, Neal decided, it was drab and boring. Luckily for him, he wasn't expected to stay there for long. They'd outfitted him with a wire – a real wire, not like the fake watches Peter was so fond of – and after a quick sound check he was ready to go.  
  
He listened with his most serious face on as Johnson gave him last minute instructions. Or, as Neal liked to think of it, The Peter Speech. There were agents all around, he could break off at any minute, no unnecessary risks etc. etc. etc.  
  
Standing just behind Johnson, Peter wondered how long Neal was going to keep it up. His CI might be trying to impress the Memphis crew, but Peter was actually getting concerned. The SAIC finally ended off with a 'Good luck, Caffrey', to which Neal replied with his still serious face 'Thank you, Sir."  
  
"Neal," Peter stopped him before he stepped off the van. "Be careful."  
  
"Don't worry, Peter. Nothing to it." Neal winked.  
  
Neal exited the van, and the agents settled into the routine of surveillance. Their target was a jewelry shop suspected of fencing the stolen diamonds. On his headphones Peter heard Neal enter the shop and start chatting up the salesgirl, indicating his interest in the priciest gems, dropping hints here and there that he was looking for anything. It wasn't long before the store's manager appeared. One of the Scossi brothers.  
  
Johnson was listening to the conversation with a headphone held up to one ear. "I was at your panel a couple of months ago."  
  
Peter glanced over at him. "At the conference?"  
  
"Yep. You two were quite impressive."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"I've handled CIs before, but I never got to that level of trust you seem to have."  
  
Peter nodded at that. "Yeah, it's rare." He'd worked with other CIs too, and he knew it wasn't the norm.  
  
Johnson shifted in his seat. "You really trust him?"  
  
"To do the right thing, yes." Peter could read the disbelief in the other agent's eyes. "Look, Neal has done jail time, he's paid his debt to society, and he's seen that life doesn't have to be lived on the run."  
  
Johnson smiled softly at that. "Not that that's stopped him, I understand."  
  
At Peter's questioning look, he added. "I've seen his file. Your guy's been arrested what.. three, four times? And he's escaped custody too. Just in the last couple of years."  
  
Looking at it like that, Neal didn't really shine. But Peter knew the story behind each and every one of those arrests. He also knew the story behind the times when Neal was not arrested: His attempt to steal the sub treasure, almost getting El killed, had almost gotten him released from jail. "His file doesn't tell the whole story."  
  
Johnson nodded, his attention moving back to the operation. Inside the shop, Neal was cutting a deal – theoretical deal, of course – for the diamonds and giving his name and number. He'd be contacted, he was told.  
  
A few minutes later he was back in the van. "Good work," Johnson clapped Neal's shoulder. Neal beamed.  
  
*****  
  
Back in the Federal Building, Johnson led the planning for the upcoming swap and takedown.  
  
At one of the breaks Peter turned to Johnson. "About the takedown."  
  
Johnson looked up at Peter. "Yeah?"  
  
"We usually send in Caffrey with a hidden mike and a GPS watch. Allows us to keep watch on him without endangering him. He can't go in there with his anklet."  
  
"I'll make sure to get one."  
  
"The sooner the better. He might be approached at any minute now."  
  
The SAIC nodded. "Right, I'll put it on high priority."  
  
Once Johnson announced a break, Neal gathered his papers. On the far side of the conference room, Gilmore was doing the same. Johnson and Peter were deep in conversation, this was the perfect time. Neal timed his steps so he'd meet up with her just as she was about to leave. "Agent Gilmore?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'd like to look up the suspects in the database, if you could.."  
  
She frowned at his request. "Their files were all in the case file I'd sent over."  
  
"Yes, the case file. Of course." Neal thought fast, "That was very thorough, actually. But I want to look up their criminal associates."  
  
Seeing her hesitation, Neal continued to press. "Under your supervision, of course."  
  
She considered this and gave a short nod. "Sure, I'll log you in."  
  
Neal smiled broadly. "Thanks."  
  
A few minutes later, he was sitting at Gilmore's desk. She was hanging around, so he first looked up the main suspect in the case. Moving on to the known associates, he grabbed a yellow legal pad and started taking notes.  
  
He was betting that he could tire Gilmore out. And indeed, after ten minutes spent watching him work, she took a look at her watch and muttered something about getting coffee.  
  
The minute the agent stepped away, he put his pen down. He'd memorized Jennifer's license ID, and he quickly inputted it in into the system. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the computer worked its way through the data, lifting his eyes from the screen every so often to make sure nobody would surprise him.  
  
It seemed like ages, though it was probably no longer than a minute, before the results were finally displayed on the screen. Jennifer Heisner had no criminal record. A few speeding tickets, but nothing major. With a quick smile, Neal went back to the suspects list.  
  
Peter was in the coffee corner when Gilmore appeared.  
  
"Where's the-?" He waved a hand vaguely at her, then smiled his thanks as she pulled out the sweeteners. "Milk's in the fridge." She watched him stir his coffee for a second. "I've got to admit, your CI, Caffrey. He's not what I expected."  
Peter glanced over to where Neal was sitting. He was up to something, Peter could feel it. "What were you expecting?"  
  
"I'm not sure." She mulled the question over for a second. "Somebody with a more criminal mindset, maybe. The informants I've worked with were all after something. Money, protection. They weren't really interested in helping us out."  
  
"Yeah, Neal's different."  
  
"You keep him on a tight leash," she observed.  
  
Peter smiled at that. With Neal it was usually more of an issue of hanging on as tight as you could and trying not to get dragged along.  
  
"What's he doing now?" he gestured towards Neal.  
  
"Oh." She turned to look back at her desk. "He wanted to check something on the criminal database."  
  
"Hm." Sounded innocent enough. As Gilmore busied herself with the coffee machine, he decided to check it out.  
  
Peter approached Neal, who seemed very busy taking notes. Rounding the desk, he peeked over the man's shoulder. Indeed, Neal was looking up one of the suspects. Peter almost felt disappointed.  
  
Neal looked up from his work, blinking at Peter. "Hey."  
  
"Hey. How's it going?"  
  
"Oh.. just thought I'd use the time to brush up. Before I meet these guys."  
  
Peter nodded carefully. "Good thinking."  
  
Neal turned back to his note-taking, but after a minute realized Peter was still standing there. He lifted his eyes. "Everything OK?"  
"That's exactly what I'm wondering."  
  
Neal chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I just want to be extra-ready. Listen," Neal lowered his voice, encouraging Peter to lean over to hear what he was saying, "I want to make a good impression, right?"  
  
"Yes, I think you're making a very good impression." Peter stage whispered back, "If you're not careful, these guys here will ask for you on permanent basis."  
  
Neal grinned. "And what's so bad about that? They've got real coffee here."  
  
"And their motels are almost bearable," Peter continued.  
  
"There's that," Neal readily agreed, as if he would ever trade his rooftop apartment for a motel room.  
  
"Just.. " Peter hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words. Neal did his best work when he was free to be himself. "Just don't go overboard, OK? This case isn't worth it."  
  
"Don't worry, Peter. I won't do anything you won't."  
  
And why didn't Peter find  _that_  comforting?  
  
Just then Neal's phone rang. It was the Scossi brothers. A few minutes later, the last details of the swap were set. Neal tapped his phone shut with a grin. "See, nothing to it."  
  
*****  
  
Back in his room that night, Neal called Mozzie, finally managing to catch him. "Anything new?"  
  
"June's thinking of redoing the kitchen. What do you think of varnished oak?"  
  
"Moz.."  
  
Mozzie paid no attention, babbling on. "Personally I prefer pine-"  
  
"Moz!" Finally getting his friend's attention, Neal continued on in a more conversational tone. "Jennifer Heisner. Any news?"  
  
"She's gone, Neal. She probably left town." Mozzie hoped she did. The sooner Neal would get over this little bump, the better it would be, for everybody. Especially for Mozzie, who would be able to focus on more important things than finding a girl who did not want to be found.  
  
But apparently Neal wasn't going to let it go so easily. "Can't be. We've got something special, Moz, I saw it in her eyes. She-"  
  
Mozzie really couldn't understand Neal. At least with Kate, Neal had some sort of relationship. Here Neal was living on pure fantasy. "She  _what_ , Neal? Your first 'date' ended with you getting pepper sprayed, and on your second, she told you she never wants to see you again!"  
  
"She didn't exactly say that," Neal turned defensive.  
  
Moz cleared his throat, knowing Neal was not going to like this. "I think you should consider the possibility that this girl's not for you." And that was really understating it.  
  
"Yeah, thanks, Moz. Really helpful." Neal could imagine Moz sitting in Neal's studio apartment, a glass of expensive wine in his hand. If Mozzie wasn't going to help him, he would find Jennifer himself.  
  
Mozzie sighed. Neal was really starting to worry him. Maybe once he returned from Memphis, he'll calm down. "I'll continue looking," he promised, not really intending to put too much effort into it.  
  
Neal closed his eyes in silent appreciation. No matter what, he knew he could depend on Mozzie. "Thanks, Moz."  
  
Dropping his phone by his bedside nightstand, Neal stepped out onto the small attached patio. From Peter's adjoining room he could hear the TV on, the sounds of a game announcer calling  
the shots. He breathed in the night air, hot and humid, heavy with the scent of the river.  
  
He'd grown up by this river, until he turned his back on it and everything it represented. Gone off to live the real life. Things were so easy back then. He had no friends, no family he cared about. Most importantly, after years of trying to make his hero father proud: no expectations he had to live up to. As dark as that period was, it was also exhilarating in the freedom it had offered him.  
  
A freedom which was now long gone.  
  
With a frustrated sigh he stepped back into his room. What was he even doing here? He should be back in New York. He should be looking for Jennifer, not chasing criminals for the FBI. He could do it, there was nothing really stopping him. He was off-anklet, thanks to Peter's help. He could walk out of this motel and disappear into the crowd. Peter wouldn't even expect him to be in New York. It was the perfect opportunity.  
  
And perfect as it was, he knew he wasn't going to run. Not now. He couldn't do it to Peter. And he owed it to himself to finish this case.  
  
When he finally fell asleep, it was a fitful one, filled with dreams of him running, not even knowing whether he was chasing or being chased.  
  
*****  
  
Despite his troubled sleep, Neal was up early the next morning. He had a criminal gang to bring down, and the sooner the better.  
  
When he met up with Peter, the agent was full of talk about the upcoming operation, which was a welcome respite from his partner's former attempts at small talk. Neal wasn't sure he could handle any more such discussions now.  
  
They were two blocks from their motel when Peter stopped by a shop window.  
  
Neal joined him, a smile appearing on his lips as he considered the display. It was women's lingerie. "Peter. Please tell me you're buying a gift for Elizabeth, because if-"  
  
"Oh, shush!" Peter nodded with his head towards the reflective glass window. "I think we're being followed."  
  
Neal followed Peter's line of sight. Indeed, there was a man a few feet behind them, pretending to tie his shoelaces.  
  
Neal had noticed him a block down. "Right. Let's lead him on, then."  
  
A limousine was waiting outside one of the fancier hotels lining the street. Neal grabbed Peter's sleeve, dragging him along towards the limo.  
  
The driver smiled. "Mr. Gunther?"  
  
Neal smiled back. "That's right." He brushed aside Peter's whispered questions. "Are we ready to go?"  
  
Once they were both inside the vehicle, Peter shook his head. "I have a feeling I'm going to have some trouble expensing this one."  
  
"Why's that?" Neal busied himself with checking out the small wine cabinet.  
  
Peter looked like he was afraid to touch anything. "The Feds don't have money for this."  
  
"That's kind of the point." Peter didn't look convinced. Neal sighed, focusing his attention on his partner. "They want to make sure I've got a wealthy buyer, right? We've got to show them what they want to see."  
  
Peter settled back into the plush seat. "Is that what you did when I was chasing you?"  
  
Neal smiled enigmatically. "Maybe."  
  
*****  
  
The swap itself went exactly as planned. Neal brought the money, the suspect brought the jewels. Neal verified they were the real thing and gave the take down signal.  
  
"FBI!" Agents streamed in. "Hands where we can see them!"  
  
Neal raised his hands up, but the other man wasn't as compliant. Instead, he turned to yell at Neal. "This is a setup! You brought them here!"  
  
"No!" Neal shook his head emphatically.  
  
"I don't believe in coincidences. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's two-faced liars." He grabbed Neal, putting the gun to his head. "You make a move, I'll kill him."  
  
Neal swallowed hard. With Peter's team, he always knew they had his back. Almost always. But Peter wasn't in charge here, and for all he knew, he was just an expendable CI.  
  
He made sure not to make any sudden moves. "Ok, no need for theatrics, right? I tell you, I'm not with the Feds."  
  
"Shut up!" Then to the agents surrounding them: "Guns on the ground! Now!"  
  
The agents froze, but didn't look like they intended to put down their weapons.  
  
Neal tried his luck again. "You kill me, you're not going to have a lot of leverage."  
  
"Shut up! You heard what I said! Anybody make a move, I'll shoot him."  
  
In the van, Johnson put the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Keep him occupied. I need snipers in position."  
  
Peter reached out to stop him. "You can't be serious."  
  
The SAIC didn't spare him a glance. "He's not a murderer. He won't shoot."  
  
Peter could remember telling Neal exactly that. He also remembered that back then, trying to talk Neal out of killing a Federal agent, he had not been 100% sure Neal wouldn't press the trigger. "People don't always act to type under pressure." When Johnson didn't reply, he continued pressing. "You're putting Caffrey's life on the line."  
  
Over the comms they could hear Neal.  _"Guys, I think he's serious."_  
  
 _"Course I'm serious."_  
  
"He's bluffing." Johnson said in the sudden silence.  
  
Peter couldn't believe his ears. "You asked me about trust? Well, this is it. I trust Caffrey to give his best to close the case, and he trusts me to have his back." It was a pact that Peter had never broken. "Damn it, he trusts  _you_."  
  
After another moment of hesitation, Johnson picked up his walkie-talkie again. "Put down your weapons. I repeat, put down your weapons. We'll give him safe passage out in return for the hostage." He turned to Peter. "You just cost me this case."  
  
Peter took a deep breath. He was sure there'd be hell to pay later. Right now he couldn't care.  
Making his way through the sudden influx of agents, Peter sought out Neal. He found him standing by a medic, and his relief at seeing his partner in one piece was palpable. "Neal!"  
  
Neal was almost as relieved to see Peter.  
  
"You OK?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Neal brushed his suit down.  
  
"You gave me a scare there for a minute."  
  
Neal managed a shaky smile. "Just doing my job." He raised his hand, showing his bare wrist. "I slipped my watch into his pocket."  
  
Peter laughed, a mixture of relief and pride.  
  
By the time Johnson finally showed up next to them, he was positively grinning. "Excellent work, people. We've got them now for attempted murder too."  
  
Neal chuckled weakly. "Glad to help."  
  
"Come on," Peter looked at his watch, "we've got a flight to catch."  
  
"Wait a second." The SAIC stopped them. "We'll need Caffrey's testimony first."  
  
" _We_  can do that, back in New York."  
  
"I'd prefer to wrap up the case sooner rather than later."  
  
Neal rubbed his temple, still feeling the cold metal against it. "It's not a problem, Peter."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
Neal smiled, though he really didn't feel like it. "Yeah. Let's get this over with."


	4. Chapter 4

June was still up when Neal tiptoed in late at night. She was already in her nightgown, sitting in an armchair, reading a book. She looked up at him with a smile, but then noticed the suitcase he was holding. A dreamy look overcame her, and Neal realized with a twinge of guilt that he hadn't thought to ask if he could take the suitcase. Like everything else in 'his' apartment, he assumed it was there for his use.  
  
"I hope you weren't waiting up."  
  
Whatever memories it had brought up, June quickly recovered. "Did I ever tell you about the time we went down to Memphis, Byron and I?"  
  
Neal noticed her lack of denial and grinned. "I'd love to hear about it. I'll just-" he lifted his suitcase; "I'll just bring this up and take a quick shower."  
  
Neal opened the door to his apartment, and once again came to a halt. The girl of his dream was standing there. She wasn't wearing anything fancy, pants and a long shirt, all black, but as far as Neal was concerned, she shined. She put down the wine bottle she'd been examining when he walked in and shot him a calculating look. "I believe you have my wallet."  
  
Neal shut the door behind him, a slow smile playing at his lips. "How'd you get in?" June would have mentioned something if she knew a girl was waiting for him.  
  
"Oh," she flipped a thumb behind her, towards the patio. "The door was open, I let myself in."  
  
"I see." He put the suitcase down on the floor.  
  
"Do you? See, there was something about you didn't make sense-"  
  
"Just one?"  
  
"So I looked you up, Neal Caffrey."  
  
She moved over to him.  
  
"Found anything interesting?"  
  
She poked a finger in his chest. "There's very interesting rumors flying around."  
  
"About me?"  
  
"They say you fled with a multi-million dollar art treasure, and that the FBI only managed to retrieve a tiny portion of it."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You wouldn't know anything about that?"  
  
"Not on record, no." Neal shrugged.  
  
She nodded approvingly. "So I put two and two together."  
  
"Got to any interesting conclusions?"  
  
"You're an FBI snitch."  
  
Neal frowned at the term. "I may help the FBI, but I never snitched."  
  
"Call it what you may," she waved that off. "What do you get out of it?" She reached for his suit, feeling the material. Her eyes found his. "Money?"  
  
There was no reason to hide anything anymore. "A get out of jail card." He lifted his pants leg to show his anklet. "Of sorts."  
  
"Interesting." Her eyes looked him up and down. "I have this rule; I don't hang around with snitches. Particularly ones who intend to hand me over to the Feds. "  
  
"And yet you're here," Neal pointed out.  
  
"True. You see, because I think you're playing them."  
  
"And what makes you think that?"  
  
"The Feds never showed up at the Astoria. They haven't put up their wanted posters all over town. I don't think they know about me."  
  
Neal shrugged. "Nobody said I have to tell them everything."  
  
"No.. but I bet they'd really love to get their hands on me now."  
  
Neal chuckled. "Oh, yeah."  
  
"So I thought I'd come here and take a look. See who Neal Caffrey really is," her hand swept out to encompass the entire apartment. She motioned towards the painting. "You've got quite the talent."  
  
Neal ducked his head in mock humility.  
  
She turned to examine it, reaching out to touch it. "Do you plan on finishing it?"  
  
Neal was never one to miss an opportunity. "How about right now?"  
  
Jen shot him a surprised look. "What, now?"  
  
"You've got something else planned?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
With a quick grin, Neal went to get his brushes. "So.. Jennifer Heisner.. is that your real name?"  
  
"Call me Jen, and it’s as real as it’s going to get."  
  
Neal grinned. He deserved it.  
  
*****  
  
The birds were singing outside when Neal woke up, feeling better than he'd felt in years. He reached for the sleeping girl next to him. His hand brushed through the air and hit an empty pillow. His eyes snapped open with a start and he propped himself up on one elbow to look around. Jen wasn't there.  
  
"Jen?"  
  
There was no response.  
  
His apartment was small, and a quick search showed him he was indeed alone. Had he dreamed it all?  
  
Running a hand through his hair, he walked back to his bed. The easel was there, the finished painting showing Jen's face smiling back at him. He hadn't dreamed it after all.  
  
A note was taped to the easel. "Had to go. Park at noon. -J"  
  
He unstuck the note with a shake of his head, and a quick smile. So she didn't completely disappear. But which park?  
  
Neal's phone rang. Note in hand, he went to go find it. He hoped it was Jen, but as it turned out, it was Mozzie.  
  
"Hey, Neal."  
  
Neal had only one thing on his mind. "She came back, Moz!"  
  
"She.." Moz wasn't following. "Who?"  
  
"Jen." Neal reread the short note. He loved her handwriting.  
  
Mozzie didn't sound as ecstatic as Neal. "Jen?" The name didn't mean anything to him. But then realization struck. Jen. Jennifer. The girl he'd supposedly been looking the last few days. This was impossible. "You mean the same girl who tried to shoot you?! "  
  
"But she didn't."  
  
"With a gun, Neal. And she maced you. And you have no idea who she is," Mozzie tried another tack.  
  
"Oh, but I do, Moz, I do." Neal waved Mozzie's concerns away. Jen was the love of his life. "You should get to know her, Moz, you'll like her."  
  
Mozzie's answer was inaudible.  
  
Neal disconnected the call, his mind already busy with more important things. He knew exactly which park.  
  
*****  
  
"Caffrey, heard you were pretty busy over the weekend," Clinton stopped Neal at the entrance to the White Collar division. "Good job."  
  
Neal grinned as modestly as he could. "Thanks, Jones."  
  
"You weren't the only one who spent the weekend slaving away for the FBI. Here take a look at this." He was holding a black & white picture of a New York street.  
  
Neal looked at the picture, then back to Clinton. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"  
  
The FBI agent tapped his finger against the photo. "Recognize the bike?"  
  
Neal reached for the photo and squinted at it. Yes, he did recognize the bike. "Is that the same-"  
  
"Yep." Clinton smiled. "We've got her."  
  
Neal's heart skipped a beat. "We did?"  
  
"Well, we're one step closer now. This is from a traffic cam next to the Dobbler Gallery, right about the time it was hit."  
  
The gallery was hit a week earlier, and now the FBI had positive indications that Jen was involved. Not good.  
  
Peter stopped by both men. "Now that we've cleaned up Memphis, it's time to clean up New York. So what do you think now, Neal? Do we have a new thief in town?"  
  
Neal dropped the picture. "Looks like it."  
  
Peter picked up on Neal's lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, somebody's stepping on your turf?"  
  
Neal shrugged. "She doesn't seem big-time to me."  
  
"We'll see about that." Peter's instincts were usually right, and they were telling him that this time they might be on to something big.  
  
The next few hours seemed to tick by ever so slowly. The team briefing focused mostly on the Zorro case, the agents now enthused about the possibility of finding their thief, but there were other cases on the docket. Neal was assigned a hefty pile of paperwork on a new insurance scam. It didn't make the time go any faster.  
  
Neal was going to ask for an early lunch, so he could meet Jen on time, but the Feds had other plans for him. Peter called another meeting just before lunch, to review the case again. Neal listened attentively, unobtrusively glancing at his watch every five minutes. He hoped Peter wasn't going to go into overtime.  
  
He sighed with relief when he finally heard Peter say, "OK, people, let's break for lunch."  
  
"Finally," Neal muttered under his breath. He quickly got up, and headed out, only to be brought up short by Callaway. "Neal. Peter," she nodded to Peter, who was just coming out of the conference room. "I just had a long talk with SAIC Johnson from the Memphis office; he was quite impressed with you two. Good job."  
  
Neal and Peter exchanged a glance. "Thank you."  
  
"Mind walking me through the case?" Callaway motioned them to her office.  
  
Peter smiled. "Sure." With a suppressed sigh, Neal dutifully followed Peter.  
  
*****  
  
It was fifteen minutes after twelve when Neal arrived at the park, breathless. It was the same park where he first met Jen. Even now, in the middle of the day, it was mostly empty, but there were still a few people about: a mother with baby stroller, a couple of older men sitting on the bench, a bored ice-cream vendor, but no Jen. Damn. And he'd been so sure this was the park she'd meant.  
  
It shouldn't be like this. They were meant for each other. She'd come back to him, surely he should know how to find her again.  
  
He was about to turn away when she stepped out from behind a grove of trees. "Not the best idea to keep a girl waiting on your first date."  
  
Neal lifted his hands innocently. "My boss held me up."  
  
"Hm." She kissed him. "You don't seem like the guy who cares about what his boss says."  
  
"I don't. Usually. But these are not usual times." Before Jen could contemplate that further, he reached for her hand. "How about I make it up to you for being late?"  
  
A few minutes later Neal and Jen were sitting on one of the wooden benches, ice cream cones in hand.  
  
"It's been years since I've done this." Jen laughed delightedly.  
  
He grinned at her, but then turned serious. If it were up to Peter, Jen would be in jail right now. And Peter could be extremely single-minded when it came to catching criminals.  
  
Jen noticed the change. "What?"  
  
"Peter is already on the lookout for your bike."  
  
She caught a drip of her cone and licked it off her hand. "Peter?"  
  
"My FBI handler." Neal could feel the ice cream turning bitter in his mouth. Peter was so much more. The FBI agent had been so proud of him in front of Callaway. Not that Neal had ever been accused of being humble, but even he had felt a bit uncomfortable as Peter heaped more and more praise on his partner's shoulders. And now, here he was, sharing an ice cream with the same woman Peter was chasing.  
  
"I see." She didn’t seem concerned. "Well, I already dumped it."  
  
Neal's glance was enough of a question.  
  
"After I realized you're working for the Feds."  
  
"You don't trust me." With all the guilt he felt about going behind Peter's back, he was still surprised.  
  
Jen didn't seem put out by Neal's accusation. "You would have done the same."  
  
Neal had to admit she was right. He finished off his cone and took a look at the time. His lunch break was almost over. He caught an ice-cream drip off her chin and leaned in to kiss her. "Will I see you tonight?"  
  
She smiled mischievously. "I've already got something planned."  
  
"Something interesting?"  
  
She slowly finished off her cone, and gave him a calculated look. "Maybe."  
  
She seemed to enjoy piquing his curiosity. Neal would have probably enjoyed trying to guess, but time was pressing. "What is it?"  
  
"Not something I'm going to tell an FBI snitch."  
  
She'd said it with a smile, but the words still stung. He didn't want Jen to see him as the FBI consultant, the rat who was willing to help the FBI catch other criminals just so he could feel the warm sun on his skin again. He wanted her to see the real him. The Neal who for three years thumbed his nose at the authorities as they chased him around the globe.  
  
"You know.." Neal leaned in closer. "FBI snitches can be very useful."  
  
"Really?" She pulled back and considered him. "Maybe you'll show me someday."  
  
"When will I see you?"  
  
Jen shrugged. "I'll have to lay low for a few days."  
  
The offer was out of his mouth before he could think it through. "Why don't you lay low by me?"  
  
"In the FBI's backyard?" She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Neal grinned. "The best place to be."


	5. Chapter 5

Neal had barely entered the White Collar office the next day, when Peter met him at the door, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "We've got another robbery."  
  
"Where?" Neal turned to follow the agent back towards the elevators. Jen had come in early in the morning hours to join him in bed, high on an adrenalin rush. She hadn't said anything and he hadn't asked.  
  
"The Hewitt Gallery. We're headed there right now."  
  
"Any idea what was stolen?"  
  
"They're still doing inventory," The elevator doors pinged open, and both men entered. "We'll know more when we get there."  
  
Neal responded with a noncommittal nod. This wasn't as bad as actually committing a robbery behind Peter's back but it was getting uncomfortably close to it, and when it came down to it, he wasn't sure Peter would see any difference at all. He was aiding a wanted felon, a thief Peter was now actively looking for. Neal didn't want to hurt Peter, he really didn't, but he couldn't turn Jen over to the FBI. He just couldn't. He'd just found her. The thought of her behind bars sent a shudder down his spine.  
  
"Neal?" Peter tapped his arm to get his attention. The elevator doors were open at their stop. "Come on."  
  
Clinton was already at the gallery when they arrived, and he quickly gave Peter a run-down. "Their security was disabled, but I've got video from the store across the street." He brought them over to a nearby desktop. "Take a look at this."  
  
The clip started playing, showing the empty street of last night. A black-hooded figure crossed the frame, stopped by the gallery door and within a few seconds disappeared behind it.  
  
"Play it again. Yeah, pause it right there." Peter looked at the figure carefully. "What do you think, Neal? Is this her?"  
  
Neal made a show of looking at the screen. He had no doubt this was Jen. "I suppose so."  
  
The next couple of hours were spent walking around the gallery, inspecting the security system, interviewing the owner, manager and receptionist.  
  
Neal drew a breath of relief when Peter finally turned to him. "I think we're done here. Want to grab some lunch?"  
  
"Uh.. I've already got other plans." Neal shrugged apologetically. Jen was waiting for him back at his apartment. He'd planned to grab some takeout and they'll have lunch together. "I'll see you back at the office?"  
  
Peter nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."  
  
*****  
  
Mozzie wasn't expecting anybody to be there when he dropped by Neal's apartment. Whistling to himself as he entered, he flipped through the mail the maid the left outside the door. There were a few spam letters addressed to Neal Caffrey, but there was also one impressive envelope. Mozzie took a look inside. It was an invitation to a gala affair at one of the city's new exclusive galleries, addressed to Nick Halden. Mozzie clucked his tongue. Neal couldn't help himself, could he?  
  
He dropped the envelope on the table. June would be coming up soon to join him for a game, so he took a quick look through Neal's wine collection – he'd noticed a nice Moscato he thought she might appreciate. Bottle in hand, he turned around to find a young woman staring at him.  
  
"Oh. It's you." The girl from Neal's sketches.  
  
Jen had watched him enter with a slight smile playing at her lips. "Do I know you?"  
  
Instead of answering, Mozzie put down his wine and got a bottle of Neal's whiskey from the cabinet and two shot glasses. He put both glasses on the table, and poured a healthy shot into each. Then sat down. "You're making a big mistake, you know."  
  
She watched him with a smirk. "Really?"  
  
"I don't know if you really buy this sudden 'amore' stuff-"  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Not a big fan of love, are we?"  
  
"It's not all that pretty under all those butterflies and rainbows. I've seen it before. You'll hurt Neal."  
  
"That's very presump-"  
  
Mozzie held up a hand to stop her. "I don't know if you really love him or not, and frankly, I don't care. He'll do anything for you. I know. He'll jump off the tallest building and risk getting arrested, or worse."  
  
Jen opened her mouth to say something, but Mozzie beat her to it. "No, no, no. Let me finish. He doesn't want to run, but you say the word; he'll do it, and it will cost him everything. The Suits will never forgive him for it, not again. If you really care about him, leave. Now."  
  
It was at this point that Mozzie realized Jen wasn't looking  _at_  him, but rather  _past_  him. He turned around in his chair to see Neal standing in the doorway, bags of takeout in his hand.  
  
"Neal-"  
  
Neal couldn't believe it. It didn't take a genius to realize Mozzie wasn't thrilled with the new love in Neal's life, but that he'd stoop so low as to try and convince her to break it off? His best friend. Going behind his back. He felt as if he'd been sucker punched in the gut.  
  
"Get out." Neal's voice was low and dangerous.  
  
Mozzie didn't need much encouragement. But he couldn't help himself as he approached the door. "This is Kate all over again, and-"  
  
Neal didn't want to hear it. "I said, get out!"  
  
The minute Mozzie was out the door, Neal closed it behind him. With a sigh, he moved over to the table to put down the bags.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"A friend." Neal paused to rethink that. " _Former_  friend."  
  
"Oh, don't be so harsh on him."  
  
Neal shook his head. "I've had it with people trying to run my life." He started taking out the food he'd bought, small boxes of Chinese food.  
  
Jen looked at him in silence for a long moment, and then joined him to set the table.  
  
They were sitting to eat when she turned to him to ask, "Neal?"  
  
Neal was expertly handling his chopsticks. "Hm?"  
  
"Who's Kate?"  
  
Neal put down his food. "We were going to build our future together. But then I screwed up, and now she's dead."  
  
Jen put a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."  
  
Neal shrugged. He would still wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, seeing that airplane blow up before his eyes. He was never able to save Kate. No matter how much he tried it always ended the same way. "What was, was," he said. As if that made it so. And then, casually changing the subject, he added, "I was in the Hewitt Gallery today, with Peter."  
  
Jen let him drop the subject. "What happened there?" she asked with wide-eyed innocence.  
  
"It was robbed." Neal spared a piece of meat on his chopsticks. "You wouldn't know anything about that?"  
  
"Not for the record, no." She chewed thoughtfully. "But I would be curious as to what the FBI think."  
  
They exchanged a quick smile.  
  
*****  
  
Rays of sunlight were starting to filter through the kitchen windows when Peter padded down the stairs. Half-awake, he went about his morning routine, filling up a kettle and putting it on the fire for morning coffee. Elizabeth was still asleep. She'd been up late planning an event, and Peter didn't intend to wake her up before he had to.  
  
And so, when a voice spoke to him, he jumped, his hand reaching for a gun that he wasn't carrying. Luckily.  
  
"Good morning, Suit." Mozzie was sitting by his kitchen table, three wine bottles in front of him, and a half-full glass in his hands. "As much as it can be good, that is."  
  
"Jesus, Mozzie. What are you doing here?" Peter rubbed his face. He had trouble dealing with Mozzie in normal times. Standing in his kitchen, in boxers and an old worn-out T-shirt, he didn't feel up to it at all.  
  
Noticing one of the bottles on the table, Peter yelped. Closing the distance between them, he picked up the bottle in dismay. "I bought this special for El's birthday."  
  
"Ah.." Mozzie lifted a finger, elucidating. "It would explain why I had to dig all the way in the back of your pantry to find it."  
  
Peter was still looking shell-shocked. The bottle was light in his hands. "Wait a second.. did you just drink the whole thing? It cost me 40 bucks. Jeez-"  
  
Mozzie sniffed. "I can't say it's not a nice wine, but I wouldn't have paid so much for it."  
  
"You didn't pay  _anything_  for it!" Peter shot back.  
  
"Well, you can't expect me to drink that stuff you usually buy." Mozzie waved towards the other two bottles. Both had been opened.  
  
This wasn't happening. There had to be a better explanation. He was having a nightmare. That's it. A nightmare. Peter closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them Mozzie was still there. He put the bottle back on the table. "Mozzie, what are you doing here? And you better have a good-"  
  
"I'm here about Neal."  
  
That cut Peter short. He could feel his gut tensing. "What about Neal?"  
  
Mozzie took a long breath before continuing. "It's my sad duty to inform you that Neal has fallen head over heels.." it really pained him to say it, "in love."  
  
Peter gaped at him, unsure what to say. Oh, but it did all make sense now! Neal's moods, his hotel rendezvous, his reluctance to talk. Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. Neal wasn’t involved in crime, he was in love!  
  
Which still didn't explain what Mozzie was doing in his house.  
  
"That's what you came to tell me." Peter tried keeping a straight face, though he was quite unsuccessful.  
  
Mozzie nodded mournfully. "You can laugh, Suit, but should I remind you that last time he's been in this deep, he willingly stepped into an FBI trap. Twice."  
  
Peter dropped into the chair across from Mozzie. He was really too tired to deal with a conspiracy theory nut right now. Particularly one that had broken into his home. "Getting caught was the best thing that happened to Neal, don't you forget that."  
  
"He doesn't realize how badly he's going to get hurt." Mozzie spoke into his glass. "I tried to warn him, but no. A decade of friendship means nothing to him."  
  
Peter had a feeling that they've changed subjects. "Did you and Neal have a fight?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Over a girl?"  
  
"It would be just like you to trivialize life-changing events." Mozzie finished off his glass, and got up, unsteady on his feet.  
  
"Wait, that's all you came to tell me?" Peter felt he'd entered the theater in the middle of a movie and was constantly trying to catch up. Mozzie did seem on the tipsy side, but he wouldn't have come to the FBI unless it was something really important. "Are you saying this new girlfriend is dangerous to Neal in some way?"  
  
Mozzie blinked at him through his thick-lens glasses, as if he didn't understand the question. "Have you ever seen Neal in love? "  
  
Peter was really trying to remain serious. "So, what, you want me to arrest him? How about I throw his girlfriend in jail, hm?" He could already see the arrest warrant, under 'crime' he'd write 'Mozzie doesn't approve'.  
  
Mozzie turned hopeful, "Could you?" He didn't want to turn in a fellow criminal, but if the Suit insisted..  
  
Peter sighed. "Neal falls in love with every pretty face he sees on the street. What's different this time?"  
  
Mozzie just shook his head. "You don't get it." Neal could enjoy beauty anywhere he found it, but for Neal there was only one type of love: real, true love that burned deep. Anything else was just a game.  
  
"I don't get  _what_?"  
  
"Mozzie?" Peter hadn't noticed El coming down the stairs. She stopped halfway down, hand on the railing, taking in the two men. "I thought I heard voices.."  
  
Peter got to his feet. "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you, Hon."  
  
"Is everything OK?"  
  
Mozzie was the first to answer, plain and simple for once. "No."  
  
"Everything's just fine. Really." Peter nudged Mozzie. "And Mozzie was just leaving. I'll call you a taxi."  
  
"Ha! I'm not going to fall for that, Suit." As if he was ever going to get into a taxi ordered by an agent of the Federal Government. Not willingly.  
  
Peter wasn't in the mood to start arguing about this. "Whatever. Oh, and Mozzie." He waited for the other man to meet his gaze. "You do this again, I'll arrest you."  
  
"And that's the thanks I get. You Suits are all so predictable."  
  
"Wait!" El made the last few steps. Mozzie was obviously in no condition to walk the streets of New York. "Mozzie, you shouldn't be going out like this." She looked sharply at Peter.  
  
It was her 'shame on you!' look, but it took Peter a moment to realize where this was going. He shook his head vigorously, but El simply ignored him, reaching out to guide Mozzie to the living room. "Why don't I set up the couch for you?"  
  
"Oh, that's very nice of you." Peter could swear Mozzie was much steadier on his feet as he let El lead the way.  
  
Once Mozzie was snoring on their couch, Elizabeth joined Peter in the kitchen. She turned on the fire under the kettle. "What was that all about?"  
  
Peter was still stewing over their unexpected guest. "Did you have to ask him to stay?"  
  
"We couldn't have sent him out like that."  
  
"He would have been fine. Mozzie always lands on his feet."  
  
"That doesn't mean we have to push him."  
  
Peter just shook his head. He saw no reason right now not to push Mozzie off the tallest building he could find.  
  
"Don't worry," El continued, "the minute he gets up, he'll be on his way. So, what was that all about?"  
  
"That, was one Neal mystery solved." Peter's eyes sparkled. "Turns out Neal has a new girlfriend."  
  
"Oh." And then realization hit. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Last time I was in Neal's apartment he had a painting of a girl there." Elizabeth shook her head. "Just this past Saturday."  
  
Peter tried figuring it all out. Neal had known this girl for a while, then, but how long? And why keep it a secret? "What I don't get.. Why would Neal be so cagey about a girl?"  
  
"Maybe he just wants some privacy."  
  
"I don't know." Peter shrugged. "Or maybe he doesn't want her knowing he's a criminal on parole."  
  
"You think Neal would lie to his girlfriend?" El grimaced at the thought.  
  
"Wouldn't be the first time." Peter shook his head. Was there anybody out there Neal hadn't lied to? "What did she look like?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Well," The kettle started to boil, and El reached to turn off the fire. "The painting was amazing."  
  
*****  
  
At work, Peter stopped by Neal's desk, unsure how to broach the subject. "Hey."  
  
Neal had a file open in front of him, but he mind was far, far away. He had a fight with one friend, was lying to another, and he had no idea how to fix it all. At Peter's words he looked up, arranging his features into an attentive look. "Hey."  
  
The FBI agent glanced down at the file, looking for a hook to the conversation. "Working on the Zorro case?"  
  
"Yep." Neal waved at the papers. "Just looking at the Pittsburgh case." He wouldn't have met Jen if she hadn't decided to come to New York and try and sell the painting there. And he hadn't lied to her, she had done an amazing job: clean and professional.  
  
"Think we can learn from it?" Peter spun the file around so he could read it.  
  
Neal shrugged. "Maybe. She didn't just materialize in New York out of thin air."  
  
Neal realized his mistake the second the words were out of his mouth. But it was too late. Peter was nodding carefully, the wheels in his head already turning. "You're right. She did Pittsburgh, she might have already hit elsewhere. I'll check for similar cases."  
  
"Yeah." Neal was about to get back to his files, but decided it might be a good time to test the waters. "Peter, if we catch this new art thief-"  
  
"When." Peter corrected. "It's only a matter of time."  
  
Neal wasn't going to argue the point. "Yeah. Well, would you consider offering her the same deal you gave me?"  
  
Now it was Peter's turn to be confounded. "She's picked up at least a million dollars' worth of art, Neal. She pulled a gun on you, remember? She's going to be doing ten to fifteen at least."  
  
Neal's mouth went dry. "I didn't get so much."  
  
Peter chuckled. "Well, you didn't steal so much. Allegedly."  
  
"Right." Neal nodded. He'd stolen so much more, but he'd been extremely lucky.  
  
Peter considered Neal for a moment. His CI had helped put so many criminals behind bars without a second thought, but this one's obviously got to him. "She's got you hooked, hasn't she?"  
  
"What?" Neal laughed easily. "No."  
  
"Let's see.. she's mysterious, "Peter listed the points on his fingers, "smart, challenging, a very successful art thief."  
  
"OK," Neal allowed, "so maybe a little bit. But, I mean, she could be me."  
  
So  _that's_  what was bothering Neal. "Maybe she'll cut a deal with the DA's office. If she can deliver larger fish, they might go with it."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But you know, that's the way it goes. You commit crimes, you do time."  
  
Neal sighed. "Yeah, I know." That's the way it went in Peter's world, and Neal already had plenty of personal experience with that.  
  
Peter could see Neal was still chewing it over. "Let's just take it one step at a time. For now, we've got a crime spree on our hands and we need to focus on ending it, OK?"  
  
"OK."  
  
"By the way, have you been in touch with Sara recently?" Peter had tried throwing the question out as casually as possible, but it still came out clunky.  
  
Talk about a non sequitur. Neal blinked. "Sara?"  
  
"Yeah. You know, your girlfriend until a couple of months ago? Currently residing in London."  
  
"Working in London. Yes." Neal shrugged. "Haven't spoken to her recently. Why?"  
  
"Hadn't gotten around to calling her?"  
  
Neal frowned at Peter's insistence. Peter wasn't usually nosy for nosiness' sakes. "She's busy with her new job, new life. When she's ready to make contact, she will."  
  
"Hm."  
  
Neal couldn't just leave it at that. Peter was fishing for something. "What?"  
  
"Oh, just wondering. Because, you know, in another year or so you could join her."  
  
Neal blinked. "In London."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And leave New York?"  
  
Peter wasn't surprised that Neal didn't seem excited about the idea. "Yeah, why not?"  
  
Did Peter want him to go somewhere? "A year is a long time, Peter. I'm sure Sara will have a whole new life by then."  
  
It was exactly the line Peter was waiting for. "You think she'll have moved on?"  
  
"Maybe. Things change."  
  
"Have you?"  
  
Neal still had no idea where Peter was going with this. "Changed?"  
  
"Moved on." Peter held Neal's gaze.  
  
Did Peter know something or was he just fishing? "Did Sara call you?"  
  
"Oh, no. I'm just wondering."  
  
Neal smiled briefly. "If I'll leave New York to join Sara, you'll be the first to know."  
  
"Good, good." Peter didn't feel that he'd gotten any answers. But maybe that was because he hadn't asked the right questions.  
  
Clinton and Diana approached, Clinton handing Peter a file. "We've got a final tally from the Hewitt."  
  
Peter glanced through it. It was a very short tally. "They stole Boudin's 'Sky at Sunset'." Peter closed the file. "I don't get it. The Hewitt had a Monet on display. That must have been worth more."  
  
"They might have missed it," Clinton suggested.  
  
"Yeah, but if I remember correctly, the Pittsburgh gallery also had a Monet in their inventory. The thief went for something else."  
  
"Ooh. A snobby thief." Diana piped up. She gave Neal a meaningful look. "Never met one of those before."  
  
Neal pointedly ignored her. "You know these things go in and out of fashion. Maybe Monet's not in vogue on the market. And they're harder to sell."  
  
"Maybe." Peter figured there must be more to it. He was slowly building a profile of this thief, and this was one more piece to add to the puzzle.  
  
*****  
  
June met Neal at the foyer of her house, just as he took his hat off.  
  
"I was just about to walk Bugsy," she told him. The little dog was scampering around excitedly. "Care to join me?"  
  
Neal hesitated but then flipped his hat back onto his head. "Sure." June obviously had something on her mind, and there was only one way to find out what it was.  
  
They walked side by side, June holding Bugsy's leash, while Neal had his hands in his pockets, each deep in their own thoughts.  
  
"Mozzie came by today." June finally said.  
  
Neal's gut tightened at the words, the rage he'd felt at Mozzie's betrayal still white-hot. "Whatever Mozzie told you-"  
  
"He didn't need to say anything." June shook her head, and glanced at Neal. She never pried into the young man's personal affairs. Some might have seen it as indifference, but she knew that he needed his privacy. He'd been through so many interrogations, had to constantly answer to prying FBI agents. There were times Neal wanted to share, and she was happy to listen. She enjoyed those long evenings when they would sit together over coffee and cookies; swap stories of the past and talk of their dreams of the future. But otherwise she gave him his space.  
  
It was clear Neal didn't want to talk about his fight with Mozzie, but Mozzie was her friend too, and she didn't want to see him hurting either. Mozzie had refused to talk about what had gone between the two of them, but she wasn't blind.  
  
The little dog pulled on his leash and June relented, letting him lead the way. "I had a really good girlfriend in high school. We were very close. When I met Byron, she was dead set against him. Told me I'm making the biggest mistake of my life. Oh, it was a big fight." She glanced at Neal. "I broke contact with her and never spoke to her again."  
  
"She was wrong," Neal answered simply.  
  
June smiled. "She was. But so was I. Byron was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I lost out by cutting her out of my life. By the time I wanted to make up, she'd moved away."  
  
"This is different," Neal shook his head stubbornly.  
  
"You do know he cares about you."  
  
Neal snorted. "Well, he should have thought about the consequences before he stuck his nose where he shouldn't have." His tone softened as he glanced at the older woman. "Look, June, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really am. But Mozzie had his chance. He blew it."


	6. Chapter 6

Neal stretched in bed and reached for the sleeping girl next to him. His hand swished through the air and hit an empty pillow. Again. With a start he raised his head, looking around.  
  
"Morning." Jen was standing by the little kitchenette, whisking eggs in a bowl.  
  
"Good morning. " Neal smiled, relieved she was still there. He was so lucky, he couldn't believe it. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Making breakfast," she continued whisking. "I'm surprised you have flour. Most guys don't keep that stuff around."  
  
"I'm not most guys." Neal shot a quick look at the clock, and gasped at the time. He was already running late.  
  
Jen noticed the look on his face. "I thought you deserved to sleep in this morning."  
  
"Yeah, try convincing Peter of that." Neal threw the blankets off and struggled up and to his closet, looking for what to wear.  
  
Jen rolled her eyes and put down the bowl on the counter. "Oh, come on! You've never played hooky before?" She moved over to Neal.  
  
"Not with the guy who can send me back to jail." His phone rang. Jen reached out to grab it, but Neal beat her to it. He took a quick look at the screen. "It's Peter."  
  
"Tell him you're sick.." Jen whispered in his ear.  
  
"Hey." Neal answered.  
  
"Where are you?" Peter wasn't one to waste time on small talk.  
  
Jen was rubbing his shoulders, and it was hard to tell her no. "I'm, uh.. " he hacked out a cough, "Peter, I'm not feeling well, I was up all night throwing up."  
  
"Oh." Peter paused, unsure what to say. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah." Neal swallowed, his throat turning dry. "I'll try to come in, Peter, I'm just-"  
  
"No, no, it's OK. Stay home and rest, and don't forget to drink. Feel better, OK."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks." Neal ended the call and tossed the phone back on his night table. He ran his fingers through his hair. Now he was really lying to Peter.  
  
"There." Jen kissed his neck. "Was that so difficult?"  
  
"God, I feel bad." He could lie to people without blinking, with a smile on his face. Why did he feel so guilty now?  
  
"See? So you weren't even lying. Come on," she reached for his hand, pulling him towards the kitchen. "I'll make you pancakes."  
  
*****  
  
Peter grimaced at his computer screen. He was sure this was somehow connected to Neal's new girlfriend, but he couldn't deny the man a day off if he really wasn't feeling well. Tapping at his keyboard, Peter brought up a map of Neal's anklet. Neal was home, which wasn't that surprising.  
  
"Morning, Boss." Diana stopped by his office. "Caffrey's on his way?"  
  
"Neal called in sick."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Her tone caught Peter's attention, and he smiled at her. "You think the great Neal Caffrey should be able to con stomach viruses too?"  
  
Diana shrugged. "He's never been sick before."  
  
"Yeah. Truth is, I'm not sure how sick he really is now, either."  
  
Diana wasn't surprised. Deep down she thought Peter was way too soft on the con-man. "You want me to pop by his place, make sure he's really on the up and up?"  
  
Peter considered the offer for a second. He'd actually thought of doing so himself. "No, no, I don't want him to think I don't trust him."  
  
"Do you?" Diana grinned at him.  
  
It was a question Peter didn't really feel like answering. Instead he pointed at the file his agent was holding. "Got anything for me?"  
  
"Yeah. NYPD found our bike." She handed the file over. "In a scrap metal yard. Wiped clean, of course."  
  
Peter glanced through the file, a grin appearing on his face. "Of course. Wouldn't want to make our job any easier."  
  
"Nope. Turns out it was stolen in Pittsburgh."  
  
"Yeah, OK, thanks, Diana." Peter plopped the file down. He actually enjoyed the ones who made his job harder. It made catching them that much sweeter a victory.  
  
Once she left, he glanced back at his computer screen. Neal's anklet was still blinking green at home. After a moment's thought, he picked up his phone and dialed. This was a case for some undercover work. "Hey, Hon."  
  
"Hey, everything's OK?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Just.. Neal called in sick today, some kind of stomach bug, and I was wondering-"  
  
Elizabeth didn't wait for the end of the sentence. "You want me to drop by his place?"  
  
Peter smiled. He loved his wife. "Yeah. If it's not too much trouble. Just don't tell him I asked."  
  
"You didn't." El answered. "I think I can fit it in."  
  
Putting down the phone, she turned to Mozzie, who was standing by, listening to every word. "I'm going to stop by Neal, want to join me?" Despite her promise to Peter, Mozzie seemed to always be around nowadays. And it had turned out to be impossible to throw him out; he just kept showing up again. The poor thing just seemed so distraught over his fight with Neal. Peter had no idea what could have caused such an explosion, though when it came to Mozzie, he didn't think it took much.  
  
"I don't think he'll want to see me."  
  
"He's sick, I doubt he'll have the strength to argue with you now," El tried to put a positive spin on things. "Besides, you won't know unless you try, right?"  
  
Mozzie simply shrugged.  
  
"Look, I know you, and I know Neal. Whatever got him upset, he'll get over it. Your friendship is stronger than that."  
  
Mozzie considered her for a moment. Peter was Neal's friend. His partner. But even Peter didn't really know Neal. He couldn't see what was happening right under his nose. "Every friendship has its breaking point."  
  
El tried again. "When Peter and Neal were investigating Pratt, I went behind Peter's back to keep him safe. I lied to him. It was a mistake, but Peter forgave me, because he knew I did it out of love. I was worried about him."  
  
Elizabeth's words hit too close to home. They've lied to each other in the past, Neal and him. It was part of the package deal, and neither expected more from each other. But this time he'd crossed the line. He did what was necessary, knowing it would hurt Neal in the short run, but he had only acted in Neal's best interests. Was it too naïve to expect Neal to realize that?  
  
He had nothing against the Burkes, besides the fact that they were the Evil Agents of the Dark Forces of Government, but their couch wasn't as comfortable as Neal's, their cultural horizons were quite limited, and their wine collection left much to be desired. He missed being able to hang around Neal's place.  
  
"Well," Elizabeth continued, unaware of the turmoil she caused, "if you want to join me, I'll be leaving in the next half hour or so."  
  
*****  
  
"What have we got?" Peter entered the conference room. The table was already covered with files and coffee cups, and agents milling about. People started taking their seats once he entered.  
  
Diana looked up at him. "We've got the files you requested, all stolen art going back six months, nationally."  
  
"Good, good." Peter rubbed his hands together and moved over to the whiteboard. "OK. So, what do we know so far?" The board was filled with surveillance photos and lists and maps of known and suspected hits by Zorro. "Let's focus only on the crimes we know she's involved in. She's hit the Dobbler and Hewit galleries here in New York and the Raab in Pittshburgh."  
  
Peter took down a few of the photos. Picking up a marker, he wrote in big, block letters: "MO".  
  
Clinton raised a hand. "She's good at bypassing security systems. She did that at the Hewitt and in Pittsburgh too."  
  
"Right." Peter added that to the list.  
  
"She picks her targets." Diana pointed out. "Each of the three had only one painting stolen."  
  
"She might be going through a shopping list." Peter added.  
  
"Yeah. And she's going for lesser known paintings. Impressionist paintings."  
  
Peter nodded, summing up, "So we're looking for thefts involving one piece, of lesser known impressionists."  
  
They divided up the files and for the next few hours they all sat around the table, reading and analyzing the data. Most files were rejected; it was obvious they weren't talking about the same thief. The files that did seem connected were placed in the center of the table.  
  
By the time they went through all the files, they had eleven files all together fitting Zorro's profile and MO. Peter hurried to his office and returned with a large map, which he quickly affixed to the board.  
  
"We've got Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Austin, Cedar Rapids, Fort Wayne, Miami." He circled each city. "And now New York."  
  
"She's really doing the rounds here," one of the agents commented.  
  
Peter certainly agreed. He tapped the marker against his hand. "But why isn't she moving on?"  
  
"New York has a lot of art," Diana spoke up. "Previously she didn't hit more than one or two galleries in every town she passed."  
  
"Besides the Forain in Pittsburgh, none of the others made it to market," Clinton pointed out.  
  
Diana glanced at him, "That we know of."  
  
Peter nodded. "Yeah." He stared at the map. "Maybe it's not so complicated. If we assume she's not responsible for  _all_  the thefts.. " He marked a line across the northern towns.  
  
Diana blinked. "She's following I-80!"  
  
"Yeah. She's following I-80." They finally had something to go on. "Let's get the files a full year back and see if we can continue the pattern."  
  
*****  
  
And once again El found herself trudging up to Neal's apartment. She'd prepared Neal rice and soup, all carefully packed in the bag she was carrying. She got up to the second story landing and looked up the stairs. She really wished Neal had an elevator.  
  
Neal and Jen were enjoying a leisurely breakfast. It's been ages since anybody had made Neal breakfast. Not including his prison time, that is, but Neal didn't really count that as food. Nowadays when he wanted to treat himself, he usually stopped at a café on the way to work. Or used his weekends to go someplace special.  
  
Jen leaned back in her chair, enjoying Neal's gusto. "Have you ever done the Guggenheim?"  
  
"That's a tough place to get into." Neal shot her a look and swallowed his last bite of pancake.  
  
She wriggled her fork at him. "I assume you're talking from experience?"  
  
He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "The Guggenheim has a signed Caffrey hanging on their wall."  
  
She drew back with a frown as she realized the implications. She might be going for a forged painting. A tiny possibility, but still a possibility. "You're serious?"  
  
Neal broke into a grin, the pride on his face answer enough. He'd done it when he was young and stupid; when he wanted to show the world that he, Neal Caffrey, could do whatever he pleased; when he thought he'll never get caught. Knowing now what he didn't then – that evidence in court could cost him years of his life in prison – he would never again sign a forgery with his own name.  
  
"Which piece?"  
  
Neal chuckled. "Oh, no fair telling." He loved that quizzical look on her face, unsure whether to continue interrogating him or not. It could be so much fun to tour the museum together and see if she could spot his work. "Maybe we could do a preliminary trip, scope out the place."  
  
She pointed down to his foot. "Not with that thing you're not."  
  
"Afraid I'll get you into trouble?" he teased her.  
  
"I'm afraid you'll get  _yourself_  into trouble." Jen grabbed the plates to take them to the sink.  
  
"Wait.. " Neal reached out to stop her, unsuccessfully.  
  
She threw a dish towel at him. "How about you help out?"  
  
With a quick sigh, Neal joined her by the sink, coming up to hug her from behind.  
  
She wriggled against him. "Hey! That's not helping out."  
  
"It is for me," he nuzzled her neck.  
  
Reaching the landing outside Neal's apartment, Elizabeth knocked lightly on the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. She didn't want to disturb Neal if he was sleeping off whatever was ailing him. Opening the door, she peered in. "Neal?"  
  
Neal turned around at the sound of his name, all color draining from his face when he saw his visitor. "Elizabeth."  
  
"Neal. I just, well, I just-" Elizabeth stammered. So much for having prior warning. Neal was wearing pajama pants, the young woman with him, even less. Trying to cover for her uneasiness, El took a small step in, and gestured with the bag in her hands. "Peter mentioned you weren't feeling well, and, I, well, I thought you might like a care package. But," she added, her glance shifting between Neal and Jen, "I see you don't really need one."  
  
"Elizabeth, please come in," Neal tried taking charge of the situation. "Meet Jen. Jen, this is Peter's wife, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth put down the bag on the table and reached out to shake hands with Jen. The girl from the painting. "Oh, you've met Peter?" she asked, surprised.  
  
"No, but Neal has told me a lot about him," Jen answered demurely.  
  
"Look, Elizabeth," Neal spoke up, "I know what this looks like, but this isn't-"  
  
El didn't let him finish. "It looks like you're lying to Peter and running behind his back."  
  
Neal lifted his hands innocently. "I may have exaggerated a bit, but I wasn't lying." He paused when Elizabeth glared at him. She never did appreciate the way he carefully danced around actually lying to Peter. Not that it mattered much by now. He was lying to Peter left and right. Hell, he was lying to Elizabeth right now. Taking a couple of steps, he closed the distance between them. "Are you going to tell Peter about this?"  
  
"I'm not going to lie to my husband."  
  
Neal bit down the first retort that came to mind. Elizabeth had no problems asking Neal to lie to Peter, but now she was suddenly the paragon of spousal integrity. Instead Neal filed this away for future use, deciding it wouldn't help his cause to bring this up right now. "I'm not asking you to."  
  
Elizabeth considered Neal for a moment. The pleading look in his eyes belied his words. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And it wasn't as if he was really doing anything wrong, not as far as she could see. Why couldn't he understand that sneaking around like this just made Peter more suspicious? "Neal.. whatever's going on, you should tell Peter about it."  
  
Neal nodded with a quick smile. Elizabeth wasn't going to tell on him. "You're right, of course, I will."  
  
That didn't sound definitive enough for Elizabeth. As much as she understood Neal's wish for privacy, stunts like these could land Peter in serious trouble. And he was being scrutinized at work, as it was, with the higher-ups just waiting for him to mess up. She glanced at her watch. "Look, Neal, it's now eleven. I'm going to call Peter in about an hour, and when I do, I'm going to tell him the truth. Please speak to Peter before then."  
  
Too late, Neal realized he'd been outplayed. He couldn't press Elizabeth to lie, not after he'd told her he didn't want her to, and he'd just agreed with her that Peter should be told. But none of that showed on his face when he responded, "Of course, I'll talk to him immediately." As if that's exactly what he meant to do all along  
  
Elizabeth's voice softened. "You know, he's worried about you."  
  
"I know." Neal wasn't sure that's the way he would have phrased it. There was no reason he had to report to Peter about every single thing he did in life. Neal wasn't a little kid, and he didn't need Peter standing over his shoulder and giving him unsolicited life advice all the time.  
  
"OK." Elizabeth sounded like she was trying to reassure herself. She picked up the bag she'd brought. "So, uh, nice meeting you, Jen."  
  
Jen smiled sweetly. "Nice meeting you too." She dropped the smile the minute the door shut behind Elizabeth. "What does this mean?"  
  
Neal shook his head. "It means I'm going to have to speak to Peter." He wasn't looking forward to this at all.  
  
*****  
  
"Peter." Callaway stopped by Peter's office. "Where's Caffrey?"  
  
Peter looked up from his work. He had been hoping his boss wouldn't notice the missing CI. "Oh. He's home, sick."  
  
"Sick." She repeated, shaking her head. "This isn't a day-camp, Peter."  
  
"I'm not going to force a sick man to come to work."  
  
Amanda seemed to accept that. "You're sure he's sick?"  
  
"Well, when I spoke to him this morning he sounded like he's going through hell, so I'd say-" Peter stopped mid-sentence, when he saw the subject of the conversation get off the elevator. "I'd say that he's probably feeling better."  
  
Callaway turned to follow Peter's line of sight, pursing her lips at the sight of Neal. "He doesn’t look sick to me."  
  
Neal paused as he entered the White Collar offices, realizing both Callaway and Peter were observing his entrance. Peter got up from behind his desk and gave Neal the finger point. "Oh, boy."  
  
*****  
  
Sitting in the guest chair in Peter's office, Neal watched as the agent paced back and forth. Peter finally paused by his desk, turning on Neal. "I can't believe you lied to me."  
  
"And I can't believe you sent Elizabeth to spy on me," Neal answered with just as much passion.  
  
"I didn't send-" Peter cut off at Neal's disbelieving look. "You know what, I don't need to excuse myself to you. You keep forgetting that you're under my supervision and that if-"  
  
"Oh," Neal snorted. "I wish I could forget, but you don't let me."  
  
"I want to trust you, Neal, but every time," Peter was saying, "every time I try to do it, you go and prove me wrong."  
  
Neal didn't really see where Peter had tried to trust him. "Look, Peter-"  
  
"You're not a little kid." Peter put up a hand to massage his forehead. Why did Neal constantly act like one? "OK. So what got into your head this time, hm? "  
  
Neal cleared his throat. "I woke up late, and then you called, and-"  
  
"You woke up late." Peter repeated, not believing that Neal was actually going to use that excuse.  
  
"Yeah." Neal cleared his throat again. It was either telling Peter now, or having Elizabeth give  _her_  version of events. "I had a guest over, and I didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
"A guest."  
  
Peter was starting to sound like an echo chamber. "A female guest," Neal clarified, hoping the agent would piece the story together on his own.  
  
Peter shook his head. If the younger man insisted on saying as little as possible, then so be it. He was actually starting to enjoy this. "Are we talking about a one-night stand, or-"  
  
"No, no." Neal shifted under Peter's glare. "She's a more permanent type of guest."  
  
Finally he was getting somewhere. Peter took his seat. "You mean you've been seeing her for a while?"  
  
"A few days, yes."  
  
Peter pulled a legal pad over and produced a pen from his jacket pocket. "Does this somebody have a name?"  
  
"Her name's Jen. Jen Heisner." Neal watched silently as Peter wrote that down. As far as visual aids went, it was a very effective one. He got the point.  
  
The agent then looked back up at Neal. "And you met here where?"  
  
"Oh.." Neal shrugged, not liking this interrogation at all. "We sort of ran into each other. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy." Boy reports about girl to boy's FBI handler. "You know how that goes."  
  
Peter leaned back in his chair. Right, he was talking to Neal. The guy who could pick up girls on a five minute milk run. "She's not a criminal, is she?"  
  
Now it was Neal's turn to pause. His heart beating loudly in his ears. "What?"  
  
"Kate, Alex. You've got a track record."  
  
Neal chuckled weakly. It was a joke, and a bad one too. "Sara doesn't have a criminal record."  
  
"No, but she knew about your criminal past. This Jen, she knows about.. about your situation?"  
  
Neal lifted his pants leg to reveal his anklet. "It's kind of hard to hide." Especially after Elizabeth showed up and made it quite clear he was not allowed to skip work.  
  
"Good. Because, Neal?" Peter waited for the other man to look up, "She needs to know. Everything."  
  
"Don't worry, Peter." Neal smiled disarmingly.  
  
Whenever Neal smiled, Peter knew something was wrong. "Neal?"  
  
"I'm telling her." At Peter's look he added, "Everything."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Peter considered Neal for a moment. "You lied to me."  
  
Neal shook his head, "Look, I'm sorry." He really was, but what other choice did he have?  
  
"You should have told me when you started going out."  
  
And there it was again. Neal hated having to report to Peter. This was his life, his girlfriend. It wasn't Peter's business. Neal's mouth closed to a thin line, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You're going to tell me who I can love now?"  
  
"No. But I can tell you who you can see." Peter knew it was a mistake the minute the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take them back.  
  
For a moment the two men glared at each other, Neal afraid to push further, and Peter afraid to continue.  
  
Peter finally broke the standstill. "I think you should take a minute, and calm down. I need to speak to Callaway and make sure she doesn't throw you back in jail for this little stunt."  
  
Neal exhaled slowly once Peter left the office. He shouldn't have let Peter get to him like this. He was the consummate conman, and he knew what Peter wanted – a contrite Neal who realized he'd made a mistake. Preferably also one who wouldn't embarrass the agent in front of his boss ever again.  
  
His gaze landed on Peter's whiteboard. It had a map of the US, with some cities circled, and comments in marker all around. Curious, Neal got up to have a look. Starting from the right side of the map, he saw New York and Pittsburgh, circled in green. Then a whole bunch of other cities circled in red, almost all in a straight line going west. The line ended in the Rockies, and continued as a dotted line down to California, with several question marks added.  
  
Neal didn't need it spelled out for him. Jen had been followingI-80, straight out of Sacramento, and Peter was onto her. Not good.  
  
Returning to his office, Peter stopped at the door to observe his CI. It was good to see Neal focused on work, though Peter suspected he was only doing it to offset Peter's anger at his earlier behavior. Neal could drive him mad at times, but he'd held to his part of the deal, and he'd put countless criminals behind bars. That was, at least, the argument he'd just used with Callaway. Caffrey was too valuable an asset to throw away lightly, certainly not over taking a day off without clearing it first.  
  
"We had a breakthrough on the Zorro case." Neal spun around at the sound of Peter's voice. "Thanks to you."  
  
"Me?" Neal tried to sound as though he was pleasantly surprised.  
  
Peter nodded. It was so much easier to talk to Neal about work. "We've been digging through old cases and it turns out you were right. She's hit before."  
  
Neal gestured with his hand towards the map. "You think she's responsible for all of this?"  
  
"I'm sure of it." Peter crossed over to Neal. "She might be our biggest catch in years."  
  
Neal managed a smile, but quickly turned serious, "What did Callaway say?"  
  
"She's willing to overlook it this time," Peter lifted a hand to stop Neal from responding. "Don't make her regret it."  
  
"I won't." Neal nodded. He was thankful, but he hadn't really expected to be thrown in jail just for taking a day off. And truth was, he'd  _expected_  Peter to bat for him.  
  
"You know," Peter continued, "when I first brought your deal to Hughes, he was dead set against it."  
  
"Really?" Neal had never considered what the FBI agent had to do to get his deal approved.  
  
"Yeah, he said," Peter cleared his throat, "he said it was probably good for the Bureau, but that I should make sure I knew what I was getting into, because I might pay a price for it down the line."  
  
"OK, Peter-" Neal could see where this was going.  
  
"No, no, that's what he said. And I told him, I told him, I think you're worth it."  
  
Neal wasn't sure what to answer to that. "Look, Peter, I realize I put you in a bad position today. I swear I'll never-" he broke off at Peter's chuckle. "What?"  
  
"Don't make promises you can't keep, OK? Just, next time you come up with some crazy idea, keep in mind that both our heads are on the chopping block, hm?"  
  
"Right."  
  
Peter looked Neal over. It was time to deal with the elephant in the room. "So… This Jen. Why don't you bring her by tonight?"  
  
Neal almost choked. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Neal straightened up. "Yeah, Peter.. I don't think it's the right time yet."  
  
"I do." Peter had turned to his no-nonsense voice.  
  
"We already made other plans, so maybe-"  
  
"Change them." Peter smiled at Neal, trying to downplay what was obviously an order. "Come on, it's going to be fun."  
  
Neal sighed.  
  
*****  
  
"Sounds like fun." Later that evening, back at home, Neal had broken the news to Jen. He hadn't expected her to warm up to the idea.  
  
"Being covertly interrogated by an off-duty FBI agent and his wife sounds like fun?"  
  
Jen played with a stray curl, and Neal's heart melted. "Oh, come on, Neal!" She laughed. "You don't think I can handle this handler of yours?"  
  
Neal raised an eyebrow. "Peter's pretty smart."  
  
"Really?" a dangerous warning crept into her voice.  
  
Neal pulled her close. "Though not as smart as you."  
  
Jen grinned. "Come on, it's going to be fun."


	7. Chapter 7

Peter had just finished laying the silverware on the table when the doorbell rang. "I’ll get it!" he shouted to El. He was curious as hell to finally meet Neal’s mystery girl. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he opened the door. A Monacan princess maybe, or Arabian Jeannie. The girl on Neal’s arm, however, turned out to be rather ordinary. Oh, she was hot, of course, like all the other girls that Neal managed to snag. But Peter didn’t see anything else special about her.  
  
Neal was dressed in his regular stylish suit. Peter didn’t really differentiate between them, though he suspected that this wasn’t the same suit Neal had worn when he left work. His girlfriend, on the other hand, was dressed as casually as Peter, in jeans and a t-shirt. Obviously a girl after his own heart.  
  
Neal usually enjoyed dinner at the Burkes. There was good food, usually, and good company. Despite the name he had around the office, a name he carefully maintained, of a partying playboy, he usually only did so for the con. By the Burkes he could relax and just be himself, as much as he could nowadays in the presence of an FBI agent.  
  
This evening, though, was different. On the surface it was just like every other evening. Neal brought a wine, Elizabeth made a good home-cooked meal, and everybody was full of good cheer. But Neal could sense the undercurrents and had no doubt that Peter was more than just curious about his new girlfriend.  
  
"Jen, Peter. " Neal made the introductions.  
  
Jen smiled warmly and shook Peter’s hand. "Peter, it’s good to finally meet you, Neal has told me so much about you!"  
  
Peter shot Neal a look. "Really? Because he hadn’t really mentioned you. At all."  
  
Neal was saved from answering when Elizabeth joined them from the kitchen. She greeted them both warmly, and Neal pretended he was glad to see her, as if she wasn't the one responsible for his current predicament.  
  
"Come on in," Elizabeth was saying, "Oh, Neal, you brought a wine, thank you."  
  
The questions started shortly after they sat down to eat. Peter picked up his fork and even before touching his food turned to ask, "Where are you from, Jen?"  
  
"Oh.. I grew up in California, but for the past few months I've been on the road." She heaped a serving of casserole on her plate, "Trying to find myself."  
  
"Aren't we all," Neal interjected. "It's kind of funny-"  
  
But Peter cut him off. He was not going to let Neal control the flow of the conversation. "And what brought you to New York? "  
  
"Well, I took an art degree back in Sacramento," Jen answered, "and-"  
  
"Oh, you’re in art." Elizabeth interrupted.  
  
"Elizabeth used to work in an art gallery," Neal added in explanation.  
  
Peter saw his opportunity. "You worked in art too, Neal. Till you got arrested." Then as the idea occurred to him, he added, "Hey, once you get released, you two could work together," he pointed with his fork at both Neal and Jen.  
  
As expected, Neal didn’t look thrilled to have his criminal past and present discussed over dinner, but it was Jen’s reaction that Peter was waiting for. She didn’t look surprised, just smiled sweetly at Neal, then back to Peter. She knew about his arrest. "So, New York is so famous for its galleries, I had to stop by. I was just going to do a tour of the main museums and galleries, but then I met Neal and my plans changed."  
  
"Hm." Peter smiled and reached out for a baked potato.  
  
"So you met at an art show? " Elizabeth took up the thread of questions.  
  
Neal and Jen exchanged glances, and Neal started. "Well, we-"  
  
"We met in the park." Jen interjected. "We didn't exactly hit it off at first."  
  
Neal chuckled. "Yes."  
  
"But then Neal came to apologize, and we've been inseparable ever since." She ignored Neal's soft kick in her sheen. He didn't want Peter thinking over the fact that Neal had been hiding something from him.  
  
"Inseparable, uh?" Peter eyes shifted between Neal and Jen.  
  
Elizabeth jumped in to Neal's rescue. Taking a sip of her glass she turned to Neal. "Neal, this is great wine. Where did you get it?"  
  
The meal continued rather pleasantly. Once everybody had seconds and thirds, Elizabeth got up. "Why don't you guys clear up and we'll bring in dessert?"  
  
Peter dropped his napkin onto his plate. "Excellent idea. Neal?"  
  
The minute the two women disappeared into the kitchen, Peter put down the plates he'd picked up. "Neal."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Getting settled, it's good for you."  
  
Neal grinned, excitement in his eyes, "Peter, I think she's the one. It's like we're already in the middle of the conversation and we've just picked up the thread. "  
  
"Good, good." Peter smiled at Neal. Jen seemed like everything Neal needed. A woman who could help him integrate back into normal society, keep him away from the temptations of crime. A serious long-term relationship might be just what the doctor ordered for Neal. "But I don't want you being a bad influence on her."  
  
Neal just shook his head. "I won't."  
  
*****  
  
"You guys look very happy together." Elizabeth started once they'd entered the kitchen, opening the freezer door to take out the ice-cream.  
  
Jen leaned on the counter. "We are. Neal's so.. I've never met anybody like him," she enthused. "He's smart and funny and knows how to listen. He's an amazing guy."  
  
Elizabeth smiled, and brought the ice-cream over to the counter. "He is." She glanced at Jen for a second before returning to portioning out dessert. "That's also what makes him such a good con-man."  
  
Jen paused at that. "Yes, but now he works for the FBI, right? For Peter?"  
  
"Yes, yes, he does," El affirmed, "and he does an excellent job, too."  
  
As the silence lengthened, Jen added. "But?"  
  
"But if you're going into a long term relationship, you need to know who he is."  
  
"Is Neal.. is he in trouble?"  
  
"Oh, no. He-" Elizabeth tried to find the right words. "Not more than he's already in. I mean, he's serving a second consecutive prison term. And, well, he doesn't always know to make the right decisions."  
  
"Huh."  
  
Elizabeth took that as encouragement to continue. "Whenever he has problems, Neal's first response is to run. So yes, in Neal's world, everything's always more exciting, but he doesn't have that stability either. And he's been living on the run so long, running cons, it's not easy to stop."  
  
"You.. you think he's conning me?" Jen was really enjoying this talk, and it was getting difficult to keep the 'innocent, helpless girl' face on.  
  
"Oh, no, he's clearly in love." Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. "And you could give him that stability he needs. Come on," she gestured towards the ice-cream. "We don't want to leave them starving for dessert."  
  
*****  
  
Neal and Jen stumbled out of the cab outside June's townhouse. "You're right," Neal kissed her. "It was fun."  
  
"You two should work together." Jen mimicked Peter with a giggle. "I never thought I'd hear an FBI agent tell me that."  
  
"Well, we can't let Agent Burke down, can we?" Neal murmured in Jen's ear.  
  
"No we can't."  
  
"Peter thinks you're a good influence on me." Neal knew he was conning Peter, but he still longed for the lawman's approval.  
  
Jen laughed lightly. "Yeah, his wife wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into."  
  
"She-" Neal paused mid-kiss, and pulled away. "What?"  
  
"You know. That you're a con-man. That you might up and disappear."  
  
Neal's fists clenched. "I can't believe it."  
  
"Hey, what?" She grabbed his arm.  
  
"Peter just won't let it go, that's what. He thinks he can play around with my life whichever way he wants."  
  
"Neal."  
  
"No. He's not going to ruin it this time. I won't let him."  
  
*****  
  
Standing in Peter's office the next day, Neal was thinking how to bring the issue up, when Peter went ahead and did it himself. "I like Jen. Don't mess this one up."  
  
Neal chuckled bitterly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You had Elizabeth try to warn her off."  
  
"Elizabeth was just explaining your situation. Look, Jen.. did she?.. " Peter suddenly realized he might have caused the exact debacle he'd been wishing to avoid, "she didn't.. "  
  
"No, she didn't. No thanks to you." Neal turned to leave, but then turned back. "I finally find a woman who can look past this," he pointed down to his ankle, "and you tell her I'll desert her?"  
  
"You're a convict, under my supervision, and she needs to know the truth, Neal."  
  
"She knows the truth." Jen knew the truth far more than Peter ever could.  
  
"Really? You told me yourself you couldn't help conning Kate."  
  
Neal stopped cold at that. He hadn't shared his past so Peter could use it against him. Bringing Kate up was unfair, and Peter knew it. "I'm not going to repeat the same mistake twice."  
  
Peter wished he could believe that. "OK. So let's say you're telling her the truth."  
  
"I am."  
  
"Less than a year ago you disappeared to a tropical island; you had the FBI start an international manhunt for you. How do you think Sara felt?"  
  
"That was different," Neal answered stubbornly. Peter was the one who told him to run. He couldn't pin it all on him now.  
  
Peter lifted a hand to rub his eyes. He suddenly felt so very tired of all this. Neal couldn't take responsibility for anything, and yet he still wanted to be treated like a grownup. "All I'm saying is that your girlfriend needs to realize what she's getting into."  
  
Neal laughed again, shaking his head. It was a sharp laugh that never made it to his eyes, "I knew it was a mistake to bring her over. You just can't help yourself, can you?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I've finally got something good going, you've got to go and ruin it for me."  
  
Peter felt his jaw clench. Neal was so  _infuriating_. After everything they've gone through together, after everything he did for his CI, Neal still couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt. As if Peter actually  _enjoyed_  having to stick his nose into the guy's personal affairs. Didn't Neal realize Peter was only acting in Neal's best interests? "Neal."  
  
But Neal wasn't listening. First Mozzie, now Peter. Everybody thought they were doing him a favor by warning Jen that she should stay away. "If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."  
  
He almost collided with Diana on his way out. She glanced into Peter's office. "What's up with Caffrey?"  
  
"Oh, it will blow over. " He motioned her to come in, "I'd like you to run a file on a Jen Heisner, from Sacramento."  
  
"Heisner. "  
  
"Caffrey's new girlfriend," Peter added in explanation.  
  
"Ah." Diana smiled, "And you think she's up to something." It wouldn't surprise her.  
  
Peter couldn't help but chuckle at that. "No, but it's standard procedure for anybody Neal's involved with."  
  
Diana nodded. "I'll look it up."  
  
Peter sighed as she left his office, the smile disappearing from his face. He had no doubt Neal wouldn't stay angry for long, but he still remembered the last time Neal had decided to cut him out. It was a very uncomfortable period. Peter couldn't drop his obligations as the CI's supervisor, but within that framework, he decided it might be best to give Neal as much space as he could.  
  
*****  
  
Mozzie slowly opened the door to Neal's apartment and peeked inside. He knew Neal was supposed to be out – there was at least one good thing about his friend working a steady job for the FBI – but after last time he didn't want to take a chance.  
The apartment was empty. Jen wasn't there either. Good. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.  
  
She hadn't brought much with her. A small bag was propped up next to the bed and Mozzie hauled it up onto the bed to take a look. There was barely anything in there, just a few clothes, a pair of gloves. Nothing that would indicate this woman was currently being chased by the FBI. Nothing that showed she was or wasn't who she claimed she was.  
  
Jen stepped out of the side room, and paused at the sight of Mozzie. "What are you doing?" She was towel-drying her hair.  
  
"Oh, just-" Mozzie thought fast. "Uh, looking for a library book."  
  
Jen dropped the towel on the couch, her hair glistening with moisture. "You don't think I'll leave anything incriminating just lying around here."  
  
She was smart and paranoid. Both talents Mozzie could appreciate. "OK." He stepped away from the bed. Time for Plan B. "I came to apologize."  
  
"For what?"  
  
Mozzie really had no idea why Neal trusted this girl so much. Instead of answering, he moved on to Plan C. "I was hoping this won't last, but since you're obviously becoming a fixture in his life." Mozzie waved a hand vaguely, "I thought it was time I offered my services."  
  
Jen seemed amused by it all. "Doing what?"  
  
"Well, you are an expert in acquiring art, and I am an expert in hiding it from prying Suits."  
  
Jen considered Mozzie for a second. "Then let's talk business." She hesitated, then continued, "But first, tell me about Kate."  
  
If she was trying to throw Mozzie off balance, she was doing a pretty good job. "Kate," he repeated.  
  
"Is that a problem?"  
  
"It's a long story."  
  
She flashed him a smile. "I have time."  
  
"OK," Mozzie gestured for her to take a seat, doing the same himself. He would have loved to relax into this with a glass of wine, but Neal might immediately pick up he had been here.  
  
"Kate.." he started, warming up to the subject, "Kate was the reason Neal ended up in jail."  
  
*****  
  
Sitting in the van, Neal listened with half an ear to his headphones. The suspect was snoring. This was what Peter thought was so important that the great Neal Caffrey himself had to be present. As if Jones couldn't handle this assignment on his own. Neal was sure this was Peter's way of reminding him he should toe the line, or else.  
  
"Everything's OK?" Clinton appeared at the door. He'd taken a break, and Neal was gratified to see he'd returned with takeout coffees.  
  
"What?" Neal turned his attention to the FBI agent. "Yeah, yeah, suspect's still sleeping."  
  
Clinton found some available space between the monitors and surveillance equipment to put down the coffee. "I was talking about you." Before Neal could protest that everything was just peachy, he continued, "You look like you've got something on your mind."  
  
Indeed, Neal's instinct was to deny anything was wrong. But the look in the agent's eye made him pause. The guy cared. "I was just thinking. You know, if my commutation hearing had gone differently." He gratefully accepted the steaming cup Jones handed him.  
  
Clinton settled himself into his chair, expertly juggling coffee and headphones. He shot Neal an amused look. "You mean, if you hadn't taken off for parts unknown just before they announced the verdict?"  
  
Neal ignored the agent's take on history. "Well, if my sentence was commuted."  
  
"You'd be a free man," Clinton said matter-of-factly. In his testimony in front of the panel he'd advised against freeing the conman. He had no trouble telling Caffrey that, if the guy would ever ask.  
  
"Yeah. A free man." Neal took a careful sip of the hot drink. That was always the dream, being free. First he'd been a fugitive on the run, then an inmate, now a CI on parole. His dreams always focused on another reality. A reality where his choice for what to do that day did not depend on prison wardens or U.S. marshals or FBI agents. But now Neal was starting to realize that maybe freedom wasn't enough. "So at the time, I was thinking of continuing consulting, for the FBI."  
  
"Really?" The FBI agent had always assumed that the minute Neal's anklet was off, Caffrey would be off to do and enjoy everything he couldn't do the past few years, most probably keeping the FBI busy again. Clinton had as much respect for Caffrey as anyone, but he seriously doubted the guy could withstand temptation.  
  
"What?" Neal turned to Jones, "You're the one who told me I'm living the dream, remember? I'm not just helping you guys out to keep out of jail." Not anymore, at least.  
  
"Sure," Clinton chuckled, "but you're actually volunteering to spend more time in the van?"  
  
Neal considered that. "Maybe."  
  
"You'd certainly be an asset to the Bureau," Clinton thought it out, "But the standards are gonna be that much stricter too. No more running cons behind our backs, and all that."  
  
Neal raised his hand in a mock swear, "Once I'm a free man-"  
  
Clinton shook his head. "A certificate from the DOJ is not what matters, Caffrey. You can be off-anklet, on-anklet, that's not going to change anything."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It's all about how you act," Clinton shifted in his chair, "and who you choose to be with. Long as you hang around with the little guy, you're not going to keep your nose clean, you know?"  
  
*****  
  
"Over two years working for Peter, working for the FBI, helping them crack cases, and as far as they're concerned, I'll never be anything but a criminal." Neal was sitting by his kitchen table later that evening.  
  
Jen was leaning against the counter. "You  _are_  a criminal."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
Crossing over, Jen sat down to join him. "Burke's just worried about you. It's actually kind of cute."  
  
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one on his leash." Neal lifted his leg onto a chair, and considered his anklet. There was a time he thought that once he got it off, things would change. Peter would start treating him like the adult he was. He would work for the FBI and be treated with respect, not the constant condescending attitude he had to deal with now.  
  
Oh, who was he kidding? Peter would never see him any differently. Nobody will. He'll always be the thief Peter had chased so many years ago.  
  
"Neal?" Jen placed her hand over his. "Remember, one more year and you'll be free."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be free." He twisted his leg this way and that, suddenly feeling a claustrophobic need to get the anklet off. He'd never really be free, not as long as he stuck around New York, with suspicious FBI agents just waiting for him to fail.  
  
Jen noticed his lack of enthusiasm. "What?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. Come here." He pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms.  
  
"What is it like?" She reached down his leg towards the anklet.  
  
"Itchy." Neal replied bitterly. It had been his idea. Back when he was staring at four more years in prison, he would have said anything to convince Peter to take his deal.  
  
He scratched ineffectually at his anklet and then put his leg down. "It's having to report to Peter about everything I do." It was better now, usually. Peter didn't pull up a map on him every day. But the possibility was always there. Peter would get bored one day and pull his anklet info, and Neal suddenly found himself having to explain why he decided to go for a stroll or why he spent his evening out. Peter treated it like a joke, but it all came down to one thing: he didn't trust Neal.  
  
Jen leaned into his embrace. "One more year, Neal. The Feds won't be able to tell you what to do anymore."  
  
"No."  
  
"You ever think where you'll go then?"  
  
"Wherever you go." He looked down at her with a soft smile.  
  
"I don't think your FBI friends will like that."  
  
"I don't care what they think." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough.  
  
She pulled away from him, looking at him with those bright eyes he loved so much. "You'd really go on the run with me?"  
  
Neal grinned. "Just try and keep me away." And right there and then he knew that's exactly what he was going to do once he got the FBI off his back. He couldn't imagine finding normal work and settling down, knowing that Jen was out there.  
  
Peter was right. He  _was_  a criminal, and that's all he was ever going to be. He just had to finish the last year of his sentence, and he could get back to living life the way he was meant to.


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth was sitting in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal, paging through the morning paper when Peter appeared. "Morning."  
  
"Morning." His day had started early today. He'd been on the phone for the past hour, working through a new case. Now he had to pick up Neal, and he so much wasn't looking forward to it. He sighed.  
  
El looked up from the paper. "What?"  
  
Peter shrugged it off. "Oh, just.. it's not going to be an easy day. "  
  
"Why?"  
  
Peter picked two slices of bread from the toaster and dropped them onto a plate, joining El by the table. "Neal troubles."  
  
That got El's attention. "What's going on?"  
  
"Oh, he was upset yesterday. Thought I was trying to break up his new romance."  
  
Elizabeth looked up sharply at that. "Why?"  
  
"Because you warned his girlfriend that he's a con. Mozzie must be rubbing off on him; he thought I put you up to it." Peter rolled his eyes, and started buttering a slice. "Everything's a conspiracy nowadays."  
  
"She just seemed so.. "  
  
"Enamored?" Peter filled in in-between bites.  
  
"Yes. Enamored with Neal." Neal was such a gentleman; he so easily cast his spell on women. And Jen seemed so young. She reminded El of that girl, Penny, who fell in love with a dashing criminal and was so thoroughly in love, she was willing to throw her life away.  
  
Neal was certainly a guy to promise the moon and then deliver, and Jen might think it was exciting to date a convict, and be all enthralled in the romance of it. Somebody had to bring her back down to reality. "You think I should talk to him?"  
  
Peter waved it off. "Oh, don’t worry about it. I'm sure he'll be back to his old cheerful self today."  
  
"OK. But if you want me to apologize or anything.."  
  
"Don't worry about it." Peter sipped his juice.  
  
Elizabeth smiled, and then got up to answer a knock on the door. She returned a minute later, Mozzie in tow. He took a look at the remains of their breakfast, then took a quick look at his watch. "Shouldn't you be off spying on the good denizens of this city?"  
  
"God." Peter turned to his wife with a pleading look. "El..."  
  
Elizabeth put a hand on her husband's arm. "Honey..."  
  
"I have no idea how Neal put up with him for so long."  
  
Mozzie shot him a look. "I'm standing right here."  
  
"I know! That's the problem!" Peter threw down his napkin and got up. "I should be able to talk about you behind your back in my own home." He stalked out of the room but quickly returned. "Whatever's going on between you and Neal," he said firmly, "you better solve it, because I can't stand this." Peter gave Mozzie one last disgusted look before he stalked out again.  
  
Mozzie waited till he was out of earshot before whispering to Elizabeth. "Papa Suit's not in the best of moods today, is he?"  
  
Elizabeth shot him an exasperated look of her own. "You're not helping." She started clearing the dishes off the table. "You really should talk to Neal."  
  
She paused at the realization that this had become her standard advice recently. Mozzie was going behind Neal's back; Neal was going behind Peter's. Somebody had to take those two by the ear, sit them down and get them to realize that that wasn't the way.  
  
*****  
  
Jen opened the door for Peter. "Neal's getting ready, he'll be out soon."  
  
Peter nodded vaguely and glanced around uneasily. "He's still upset?"  
  
Jen tilted her head. "He's not allowed to be?"  
  
Peter's attention returned sharply to Jen. He'd gotten used to discussing Neal with Sara, he hadn't quite made the switch yet to this new situation.  
  
Up until now all of Neal's girlfriends were somehow related to his past. Kate and Alex were both part of Neal's world. A remnant of his criminal past. Peter saw them as a hindrance, at best. A threat to Neal's well-being at worst. Both were no longer a problem. Kate was dead, and Alex was on the run.  
  
Sara, on the other hand, had been part of Peter's world. He had a rapport with her, had a shared experience when it came to chasing down the young Neal Caffrey. All of which meant he could get feedback from her on how Neal was progressing. He hadn't expected Neal to develop a romantic relationship with Sara, but once he did, Peter had encouraged it as much as he could.  
  
Peter had never gotten the full story from either side on why they broke up, and he'd never really pressed Sara on the topic. In hindsight, he could guess it was somehow related to the art treasure Neal had stolen, which was directly tied to Neal's inability to leave his life of crime.  
  
Jen was something new for Neal. A normal girlfriend, with no attachment to his past. Mozzie didn't approve of her, which in itself was already a good sign. And Neal had clearly chosen her over his long-time criminal friend.  
  
It all boded well for Neal, because it offered him an opportunity to finally break free of his past this time, if only he'd make use of the opportunity. But it also spelled a problem for Peter. He had to get Jen onboard. Make her realize she could be pivotal to Neal's future.  
  
It didn't help that Neal was very persuasive, and he was obviously already affecting Jen. Here she was casting Neal as the oppressed side.  
  
All these thoughts ran through his head as he considered how to reply. "I'm not the bad guy," he finally said simply.  
  
Jen smiled sarcastically. "So, what? He needs an FBI agent approving his dates, or something?"  
  
"Exactly." He could tell she didn't like that answer. "This might all seem very normal to you," Peter waved a hand to encompass the apartment, "a regular guy living in New York, but Neal is a convict, and the fact that the DOJ agreed to release him into my custody doesn't change that fact. If he were in jail right now, you'd need to arrange every meeting weeks in advance. So, yeah, he does need an FBI agent to approve his dates."  
  
Jen considered that, and for just a second, Peter had the feeling he was looking at Neal. She had that same guileless look Neal adopted when he was trying to figure out the best way to approach a mark. "And?"  
  
"And what?"  
  
She ducked her head, and then flashed him a quick, provocative smile. "Do you approve, Agent Burke?"  
  
Peter ignored the biting tone of the question. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. You're good for Neal. If you go into this relationship with open eyes, you'll-" he stopped when the door to the studio apartment's inner room opened.  
  
Neal appeared at the entrance, dressed as sharply as ever. His glance shifted between Jen and the agent. "Peter. Good morning."  
  
At least that was cordial enough. And Peter was actually relieved to be able to go. "Come on, we've got a tip on a new mortgage fraud case."  
  
He had to wait, though, while Neal bid his girlfriend farewell with a long kiss. Peter used the opportunity to study his shoes.  
  
*****  
  
"You're not going to believe this." Peter stopped by Neal's desk.  
  
"Hm?" Neal looked up from his work. To Peter's great relief, Neal had acted quite normally throughout the day. Peter had expected him to bounce back, but this was much better than he'd dared hope. Neal might be still simmering inside, but as far as Peter could see, his CI was back to normal. He was sure a good win would only help.  
  
"I think I know where she's going to hit next." Peter couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Zorro."  
  
Neal didn't blink. "Where's that?"  
  
"The Guggenheim. NYPD arrested a gallery owner last night, charged with dealing in stolen art. Turns out he's more than willing to talk, anything to get a better deal," Peter snorted, a mixed look of disgust and success on his face. Neal wondered if the agent had ever felt the same about him. A criminal willing to squeal on his friends just to stay out of jail.  
  
Peter was still talking, "He said there's talk of an ordered hit on a painting by Pissaro. The Fish Market."  
  
"That's in the Guggenheim."  
  
"Exactly." Peter wasn't surprised Neal knew that off the top of his head.  
  
"But it could be any thief who's after it," Neal pointed out.  
  
"True, but this fits the profile. Worse case, we'll catch ourselves some smaller fish." Peter seemed quite satisfied with his joke. "Come on, we're going to be spending the night in the van."  
  
Neal groaned, not having to put on an act at all. As far as he knew Jen was over there right now. She had insinuated that morning that she'll be pulling a big job in the next couple of days. He had to warn her. "Look, Peter, I can't. I've got a date."  
  
"Stop the presses. Neal Caffrey's got a date!"  
  
Neal shot him a mock injured look. "I thought you wanted me to develop this relationship."  
  
"I do. But right now you've got more important things to do."  
  
Neal hesitated just long enough to make it look believable. "Fine. Mind if I call her, then?"  
  
"Sure." Peter didn't make any move to step away and give Neal any privacy. Instead he glanced at his watch.  
  
With a slight frown Neal pulled out his cellphone and dialed Jen's number. The phone rang down the line. Pickuppickuppickup. If he was too late.. but before he could contemplate that scenario, she did answer the phone. Neal swallowed a sigh of relief. "Hey.."  
  
"Neal, this is a very bad time."  
  
"Yeah. Listen, I won’t be able to make it tonight, Peter and I are going out on a stakeout." He nodded at Peter. "Would you believe we'll be going out to the Guggenheim tonight?"  
  
There was a short silence on Jen's side. "Damn. How long do I have?"  
  
"Rain check? I promise I'll make it up to you soon." Neal glanced at Peter. "Yeah, I love you too." He hung up. "Happy?"  
  
Peter just smiled, and clapped a hand on Neal's arm. "Come on, we've got a thief to catch".  
  
Neal smiled back.  
  
*****  
  
The van was parked on a nearby side street, out of sight of the museum entrance. The FBI agents were setting up.  
  
Clinton frowned at his monitor. "Peter. Security's out."  
  
Peter turned to Jones. "What?"  
  
"I'm trying to connect to the security feed, but it's been cut."  
  
Neal glanced in their direction. "Shouldn't it send an alert to NYPD?"  
  
Peter looked over at him. "Yeah, it should. Unless somebody tampered with it." He chuckled, not quite believing his luck. "We've got her."  
  
Neal smiled back, just as he was expected to do, though deep down he hoped that Jen had made it out in time.  
  
*****  
  
Peter was sitting in his office, head between his hands. They'd been so close, they almost had her. But somehow, once again, she'd managed to slip through his fingers. The museum had definitely been hit – the security system had been cut – but they hadn't found anybody there. Peter had even gotten the NYPD to put up roadblocks all around the museum, but they were too late.  
  
The worst of it was that the museum had inventoried their stock and found nothing missing, which meant that she hadn't gotten what she was after. She knew they were coming. This thief had ESP or something.  
  
"Boss?" Diana lightly knocked on the glass doorway to Peter's office and waited for him to look up.  
  
"Tell me we've got something."  
  
Diana shook her head with a quiet smile. "Well, something about Neal's girlfriend."  
  
"Found anything?"  
  
"I looked up all possible Heisner Jenns, Jennys, Jennifers, with all possible spelling variations, born in Sacramento, aged 20 to 40." She handed over the files she was holding. "Turns out there are six."  
  
"Hm." Peter started going over the files one by one, looking at the DMV picture Diana had attached to each.  
  
"None of them have a criminal record, surprisingly enough," Diana added.  
  
"You expected more from Neal?" Peter smiled as he opened the next file to find the girl he'd met staring back at him. "Oh, here we go."  
  
Diana shrugged. "I didn't expect as  _much_."  
  
Peter shot his agent a look. "Kate wasn't a criminal when Neal met her."  
  
"It didn't take her long to become one  _after_  she met him," Diana pointed out.  
  
"Yes, that's what worries me." He glanced back at the file, and started flipping through it. "So let's see, Jennifer Heisner."  
  
Diana had been quite thorough, bringing bank statements, IRS reports, university admittance and DMV records. Heisner had several speeding ticket listed, most in California, but one was issued by the Indiana State Police.  
  
Something about the location clicked in Peter's mind. "Wait a second.." he turned to his computer, and brought up his 'Zorro' file.  
  
Diana looked at him curiously. "What is it?"  
  
Peter double checked the data. "Neal's girlfriend was ticketed on I-80 by Fort Wayne, the day after the local museum was robbed there."  
  
Both agents turned to stare at the bullpen. Through the glass office wall they could see Neal by the coffee corner, talking animatedly with one of the new probies.  
  
"You think Caffrey's dating our suspect?" Diana voiced the question.  
  
"I think it's too much of a coincidence to ignore." Peter really hoped he was just being too paranoid. But the thief  _had_  known they were coming, and he'd been standing right next to Neal when the younger man had called up his girlfriend to tell her the FBI were on their way to the Guggenheim. If he'd been warning a suspect of an FBI raid.. "Jesus."  
  
The junior agent nodded. "Want me to keep an eye on them?"  
  
"Keep an eye on  _her_. I'd like to know what she's up to. And see if you can find out anything about the rest of Zorro's hit list. If Heisner was there at the same time."  
  
"I'll check the hotel registers." Diana moved to leave.  
  
"Thanks. Oh, and Diana." He waited for her to turn back. "Keep this under wraps for now." If he was right, he didn't want Neal catching a whiff of this. And if he was wrong, which he really hoped he was, he didn't want to get Neal into unnecessary trouble.  
  
He dropped the files into the top drawer in his desk and locked it. He didn't want Neal happening across them by accident.  
  
*****  
  
That night Peter stared at the TV, unable to focus on the game that was showing. He wanted to believe this was all a misunderstanding, that the ticket was a coincidence, that Neal had no idea. But he also knew this wouldn't be the first time that Neal tried playing both sides. He'd tried getting Fowler, he'd stolen the treasure, he'd robbed a museum while Peter himself was standing right there. No. This was certainly up Neal's alley.  
  
Elizabeth joined him with a bowl of popcorn. "Honey?"  
  
"He thinks he can do whatever he wants," Peter seethed, "that there's no consequence."  
  
"Oh, Hon." Elizabeth squeezed his arm.  
  
"He was sitting with her here, in our home, conning us."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
Peter sighed, "No, I don't. I hope I'm wrong. But every time I think he's finally gotten some sense," he snorted, "off he goes and does something stupid."  
  
"Don't you remember how he was with Kate? If he's in love, you can't expect him to hand his girlfriend over to the FBI."  
  
Peter shot her a look. Elizabeth was a romantic at heart. "That's  _exactly_  what I expect him to do. Nobody ever said his friends get a pass on their crimes. That's part of his deal and he knows it." Peter knew he had asked a lot of Neal when he put him on a case involving Alex, but Neal had handled it well. This shouldn't have been any different.  
  
"So what are you going to do?" Elizabeth knew better than to argue the point. She took a handful of popped kernels and pushed the bowl onto the table.  
  
"If that girlfriend of his is stealing art here in New York, I'm going to catch her. And if Neal's involved, he's going to end up in jail. Let's hope for his sake that I'm wrong. For both our sakes." He shook his head. "I can't believe Kramer was right," Peter whispered, half to himself.  
  
Elizabeth caught that last sentence. "Right about what?"  
  
Peter shook his head. "He said I don't know how to handle Neal, that he'd be better off with him, in DC."  
  
"You don't really believe that."  
  
Peter sighed. He had believed Neal wouldn't let him down, again. "I don't know what I believe anymore."  
  
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "I'll get it." He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was Neal coming to confess. He'd get upset at him, but be grateful deep inside that the CI had finally done the right thing. The scene was playing in his head, but when he opened the door he was surprised to find Mozzie standing there. "What are you doing here?" the question came out harsher than he intended.  
  
"I'm here for movie night."  
  
Maybe not harsh enough. "Wrong answer." Peter slammed the door in the man's face. He couldn't believe the nerve of the guy.  
  
"Who was that?" El asked when he returned to the living room.  
  
"The guest from Hell."  
  
"Mozzie?"  
  
"Who else?" Peter was about to drop down on the couch again, but El stopped him. "Maybe he knows what Neal's up to."  
  
Mozzie was still waiting patiently outside when Peter opened the door. Peter wondered inwardly how long the man would have waited. "Come on in."  
  
Peter led the way into the living room. "Sit." He waited for Mozzie to do so before continuing, "What was your fight with Neal all about?"  
  
"I already told you."  
  
"No you didn't."  
  
"Oh." Mozzie opened his mouth, as if about to talk, but then shut it resolutely. "Then I take the fifth."  
  
"You can't take-" Peter broke off, realizing he was going off on a tangent. Instead he took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. He had to handle this carefully if he didn't want to tip Mozzie off.  
  
He sat back down on the couch, facing Mozzie. "Look, you came to me, right? After you had a fight with Neal. Now, I want to help you, both of you. "  
  
Mozzie sniffed. "Took you long enough."  
  
Peter ignored that. "So, I met this girl. I'm going to assume you met her too."  
  
Mozzie didn't bother confirming or denying.  
  
"Should I be concerned about her?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
They were finally getting somewhere. "And why's that?"  
  
"I already told you. Because once love is involved, Neal doesn't care anymore about anything else." The guy was willing to throw away six months of hard work on a long con, just because he was depressed over lost love.  
  
Peter's brow furrowed "You didn't actually say that."  
  
"You didn't want to listen. You know Neal. You've seen how he was when he was looking for Kate. You didn't want to listen to him then either, and see where that got him."  
  
Peter didn't need reminding about Kate. He'd been sure she was using Neal and thought Neal was making the mistake of his life trusting the girl. Turned out he was as wrong as could be. Maybe if he'd listened to Neal sooner, Kate wouldn't be dead. And he wouldn't be in this situation right now. It was a line of thought he really preferred not following.  
  
"You want to help Neal?" Mozzie broke through Peter's reverie.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Mozzie leaned forward, lowering his voice as he shared his secret. "Then you should realize there are some things, that no matter how much you wish were different, are not going to change."


	9. Chapter 9

Hurrying to work in the morning, Neal flagged down a taxi. The vehicle took off the minute he settled into the back seat.  
  
"Federal building-" Neal’s features hardened when he realized who the driver was. Mozzie. He immediately tried the door, but Mozzie was quicker. The doors were already locked.  
  
"You had your chance, Moz," he said as he reached for the phone in his inside jacket packet. "This is abduction."  
  
Mozzie shot him a look in the mirror. "You're going to call the police on me?"  
  
Neal frowned as he dialed.  
  
"Seriously?" With a sigh, Mozzie braked to a sudden stop by the curb. He turned around to face his passenger. "I warned you about Sam, you didn't listen, and now-"  
  
Neal held up a hand to stop the flow of words. He didn't want to listen. "If this is the beginning of an apology, Moz, you're going to have to try harder."  
  
Mozzie just shrugged that off. "The Suit's getting suspicious."  
  
Neal looked up from his phone. "And how do you figure that?"  
  
"I've been keeping an eye on the Double Suit for you." Mozzie ignored Neal's exaggerated eye roll. "Trust me, something's up. "  
  
"Well, Peter  _has_  been putting the pieces together," Neal allowed. "But he has nothing connecting Jen to any crime. I'd know if he was getting closer."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. He's updating me on every new lead. And he hasn't benched me." Neal could still remember Peter's constant hints when the agent suspected him of stealing the art off the sub. He couldn't see Peter continuing on as usual if he really suspected Jen was the thief he was after.  
  
It all sounded pretty flimsy to Mozzie. Neal, like most con-mans, thought nobody could pull anything on him, even as he was pulling his own cons. But as James AKA Sam had shown, that was complete nonsense. "You're going to bet your freedom on that?"  
  
Neal hesitated. Mozzie was paranoid, he saw shadows everywhere. But he was also a free man. Neal had realized, shortly after his incarceration, that sometimes being overly paranoid had its virtues. "If he's hiding anything, it will probably be in his office. I'll take a look."  
  
Mozzie nodded, satisfied, but Neal stopped him before he turned around. "Moz, wait. I, uh.. thanks for having my back."  
  
Mozzie held Neal's gaze. "That's what partners are for."  
  
"Yeah." They've been through a lot, but when push came to shove, Neal knew who his friends were. Neal leaned back in his seat, but then his eye caught the meter. "Partners are also there to let the meter run?"  
  
Mozzie shrugged with a smile as he shifted the gear to drive. Nobody said he couldn't make a buck while helping a friend.  
  
*****  
  
Pushing the door to the White Collar Division open, Neal took a look around. Peter wasn't in his office. The agents in the bullpen were mostly at their desks. It was the perfect opportunity.  
  
He grabbed a file off his desk as he passed by, and headed for the offices of the senior agents.  
  
Neal entered Peter's office, and dropped the report on Peter's desk. Nothing seemed different. The whiteboard still showed the map Peter had been working on.  
  
Neal fingered the other folders on Peter's desk, quickly flipping through them to check their contents. Nothing interesting there. He glanced over at the bullpen, making sure nobody was paying him any attention as he moved behind the desk.  
  
He checked the drawers, pulling at each gently and first checking the ones that were unlocked. They contained nothing interesting. Now to check the locked drawers. The locks on these things were pretty simple, and Neal didn't expect any problems getting past their defenses. He grabbed a couple of paperclips off the desk, and straightened them out.  
  
Another quick look towards the bullpen. All agents had their heads down. He knelt behind Peter's desk, but he barely stuck one of the paperclips into the lock of the top drawer, when he heard Peter's voice outside.  
  
He was about to stand up, but a quick peek over Peter's desk showed him Peter was standing right outside the office. Dropping the paperclips into his jacket pocket, he leaned down as if tying his shoelaces.  
  
"Peter!" He heard Callaway's voice outside. He'd never been so happy to hear her. "One more thing."  
  
He risked another glance over the desk. Peter had turned back and was just out of sight. He hoped that nobody in the bullpen was looking up at the offices as he quickly stood up and brushed his suit down.  
  
The two agents were talking right outside the door.  
  
"I think we're closing in on her," Peter was saying.  
  
"Close enough for an arrest?"  
  
"We'll see in the next few days," Peter hedged, not wanting to commit.  
  
"The sooner the better." Callaway nodded at Peter. "I don't like it when criminals in New York think we can be made fools of. Whatever you need, Peter."  
  
"Yeah." What Peter needed was an assurance that his CI was not involved in this. He hadn't told Callaway yet about his suspicions, and he wasn't looking forward to doing so when the time came.  
  
Turning back to his office, Peter blinked in surprise. Neal was standing there, looking bored. When had he come in?  
  
"What are you doing here?" Peter moved past Neal to take his seat, surreptitiously checking his desk drawer as he did so. It was locked. He made a mental note to keep an eye open on his office.  
  
"Just bringing in my report." Neal held up the file in question.  
  
"Good." Peter put out a hand to take it, flipping through it quickly. "Good work."  
  
Neal smiled. "Anything new on the Zorro case?"  
  
Peter's eyes fixed on Neal. "Do you have anything new to add?"  
  
Neal didn't expect the question. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn Peter was waiting for him to confess. He blamed Mozzie and his paranoia. His smile never wavered. "No."  
  
Peter sighed inwardly. If only he could sit Neal down for a heart to heart talk and get him to  _understand_. But it was too late for that now. He still hoped Neal would come forward of his own accord, though even then, Peter would have a hard time protecting him. "So there you have it."  
  
Neal swallowed. "We almost had her, Peter."  
  
"Almost is not good enough." Peter held Neal's gaze. "But we're closing in on her. At some point she's going to make a mistake, and then I  _am_  going to catch her."  
  
Neal nodded. He knew Peter wasn't going to let go until he got his man. Or woman, in this case.  
  
"Boss." Diana knocked lightly on the door. Her eyes told Peter that this was important.  
  
"Come on, get out of here." Peter shooed Neal out. "I want that report on that tax fraud case today."  
  
Neal would have loved to stay for this conversation, but he was obviously not wanted. Which just made him more curious.  
  
Diana closed the door behind her. "I've got new information about Heisner."  
  
Peter motioned her to sit. "What is it?"  
  
Without another words Diana handed over the file in her hands. Peter glanced out the glass wall of his office, and made sure Neal was back down in the bullpen before he flipped it open. The page contained two columns: one was a list of hotels stays registered to Jennifer Heisner of California, the second was a list of places hit by the thief they'd codenamed 'Zorro'. All hotel stays matched a crime.  
  
He should have been thrilled. He had a suspect, enough for a warrant. He was going to take down a thief who'd managed to steal her way across the US all the while staying under the radar, together with her most recent accomplice. It was a tremendous accomplishment. One he was sure Callaway would be extremely proud of.  
  
But Peter didn't feel accomplished at all, and it was all Neal's fault. "I risked my career for him so many times."  
  
Diana just nodded. She wasn't feeling happy about this either. "You want to arrest Caffrey now?"  
  
Peter shook his head. "I don't want to tip Heisner off. Where is she now, do we know?  
  
"She left Caffrey's place this morning and been doing the tourist route since. I got an agent monitoring her for now."  
  
"I'll request an arrest warrant for her. You organize a team to meet back here tonight. 7pm. Keep it hush-hush. We'll wait till they're both home before moving." After all of Caffrey's talk about 'trust', Peter wanted Neal there when he arrested his girlfriend.  
  
"Now, one more thing..." Peter knew the next part was the most problematic. With all his anger and disappointment, he wanted to handle this himself. "Pick only people you can trust. Callaway's out to get Neal, and if she smells blood.. I don't want anything slipping out about this before we make the arrest."  
  
Diana hadn't meant to go about it any other way. "Got it."  
  
"Oh," Peter shot her a calculating look, "and take Neal out for lunch today."  
  
Diana raised an eyebrow.  
  
*****  
  
Coming out of Peter's office, Diana could see Neal at his desk, pretending to be busy. He didn't fool her. She stopped by Clinton's desk. "Hey."  
  
He looked up from his work. "Hey."  
  
"Peter wants us back here tonight at seven."  
  
The other agent frowned. "Why?"  
  
Diana kept her voice down. "Caffrey's been aiding our main Zorro suspect."  
  
Clinton's eyes widened. "You're kidding."  
  
Diana smiled bitterly. "Hard to believe?"  
  
"No. Just.. coming out of the blue." It took him a moment to process this new information. This meant that Caffrey had been stringing them along all this time. "Wait, but didn't she attack him with pepper spray?"  
  
Diana looked past her colleague, to Neal. He was stealing glances in their direction. "So he claimed."  
  
God. Clinton couldn't believe he'd felt bad for the man. "We're certain about this?"  
  
Diana leaned in closer. "She's been hanging at Caffrey's place."  
  
Clinton just shook his head. "And we're going to be arresting them both tonight?"  
  
"That's the plan."  
  
Neal tried going through the files Peter had asked him to, but it was clear something was going on. He needed to know what. Stretching he arms he looked over at where Diana and Jones were having a whispered conversation. He picked up his mug and sauntered over to the two agents. "Hey."  
  
They didn't look happy to see him. "Caffrey."  
  
He held up his mug with a smile. "You look like you need a coffee break."  
  
Diana shrugged, stepping away from Clinton's desk. "I need to get back to work."  
  
"Yeah," Clinton gestured towards the pile of files on his desk. "Me too."  
  
"No takers, uh?" Neal could see he wasn't getting anywhere. With a quick shrug he turned around and headed for the coffee corner. Maybe he'll find some other agent who'll be a bit more talkative.  
  
*****  
  
Peter had skipped his lunch to go visit Neal's apartment instead. The place was empty, as expected. Neal had joined the junior agents for lunch, and his girlfriend was still out and about in downtown Manhattan. Luckily, June was out too. Peter hadn't been looking forward to explaining to her why he was nosing around Neal's apartment in his absence.  
  
The FBI agent paused at the door. Peter had enough for a warrant, but if he wanted anything to stick, he needed more than just circumstantial evidence. He had to find something that will connect Heisner to the crime. He knew exactly what he needed, too. He had DNA evidence – strands of hair found at the scene when the suspect attacked Neal. All he needed to do was match it to something belonging to Heisner.  
  
As part of Neal's parole deal, Peter had full access to Neal's apartment, but he didn't usually conduct searches of his CI's place. Mostly because he was afraid of what he'd find if he looked too closely. This time, he had no choice. Or rather, Neal had left him no choice.  
  
With a quick shake of his head he finally stepped over the threshold. Taking out latex gloves from his jacket, he snapped them on as he started looking around. He had to treat this like any other case, he told himself. It didn't really help. He had spent so much time in this apartment, sitting with Neal as they went through files, discussing cases, talking about life. When Neal had fled to Cape Verde he had sat here for days, hoping the apartment would give up its owner. Where had it all gone wrong?  
  
Peter stopped by Jen's painting. He could see why El had been so impressed. Neal had drawn his angel the way he saw her – full of life and love and warmth. The young woman's eyes twinkled at Peter.  
  
He didn't understand Neal. Why the CI was willing to give up everything he'd worked for, his friends, his job. All on a whim. For a woman he didn't even really know.  
  
Peter turned away from the painting, his chest heavy with disappointment. For all he knew, it might serve as evidence in Neal's trial.  
  
He finally found what he was looking for in the sink. Neal and Jen had skipped washing dishes that morning. He bagged the glasses, and making sure he had left no other trace of his visit, let himself out.  
  
*****  
  
When Neal came home, he found Jen throwing clothing into her bag.  
  
Neal stopped by the door. "What's going on?"  
  
"It's been fun, but I didn't get this far by staying put." Jen threw in a couple more shirts and zipped her bag closed. She looked over at Neal. "It's time to move on."  
  
"Wha-" Neal hadn't seen this coming. "Why?"  
  
"The Feds are breathing down my neck, Neal."  
  
"What, because of that Guggenheim thing? That was a fluke."  
  
"I don't like flukes." Shouldering her bag, she moved over to Neal. "And I have a feeling I was followed today."  
  
"You know I won't let anybody hurt you. If Peter was on to you, I would know."  
  
"Because he trusts you so much?" Jen shook her head with a quick laugh. "We're talking about the same guy who warned me I should watch my step with you." She gave him a quick kiss.  
  
She was going to walk out of his life, very possibly forever. "Wait. I'll go with you." Nothing was more important. Not Peter, not the FBI.  
  
Her eyes met his. "You'll run?"  
  
"I have no reason to stay." He said simply.  
  
"Burke will chase you."  
  
"I don't care. He won't find me." He knew it was more wishful thinking than the truth, but right now he would have said anything to get Jen to change her mind. "If this is about what Mozzie said..."  
  
She bit her lower lip. "Neal. I don't want a target on my back."  
  
That hurt, even more so because it was probably true. He was a liability. "Wait." He caught her hand. "If Peter is getting close, wouldn't you want to know what he has on you?"  
  
She paused, something Neal couldn't read flickering in her eyes.  
  
Neal moved in closer, hoping he got her attention. "I know Peter. Maybe he doesn't trust me, but he trusts his files. Whatever he's discovered will be filed away. "  
  
Jen frowned at that, and nodded towards the box of files on the table. "Don't you have access to the case files?"  
  
"He keeps whatever he doesn't want me to see locked away in his office." Neal smiled quietly, "I can get it for you. Now, if you want."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She hesitated, then slowly nodded. "OK. Be careful."  
  
"OK." Neal's smile reasserted itself. He felt like he'd just avoided the executioner's axe. He was getting a reprieve. He hugged her close. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."  
  
Jen put her head on his chest. "I know."  
  
The minute the door closed behind Neal, Jen sighed. She glanced around the apartment and after a long hesitant moment, walked over to the kitchen table. She took out her wallet, removed her ID and dropped it on the table.  
  
She was about to walk out the door when she suddenly paused. Changing direction, she instead walked over to the easel and carefully removed the painting Neal had painted of her. Rolling it up, she placed it in her bag, then fished inside to remove another rolled up canvas. The painting Neal had tried buying off her on their first meeting. She unrolled it and attached it to the easel, taking a step back to appreciate the work.  
  
Then she took one last look around. "Happy to do business with you, Caffrey."  
  
*****  
  
It was well past business hours when Neal entered the FBI offices. The guard at the entrance gave a cursory glance to his credentials and waved him in. Neal made it a point to show up at various hours and so the lateness of the hour didn't raise any suspicion.  
  
Neal expected the White Collar offices to be empty. He stopped in surprise when he exited the elevator. Through the glass doors he could see Peter and several other agents clustered in the conference room, deep in discussion. Peter hadn't said anything to him about working late tonight.  
  
"Peter." Clinton, standing on the far side of the table, had a clear view of the bullpen and the elevators outside.  
  
Peter raised his head at the warning in the agent's voice. He hadn't expected Neal to show up. "I'll handle this."  
  
Seeing all the agents look over at him didn't make Neal feel better. They were up to something.  
  
Peter met Neal halfway across the room. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Neal smiled carefully. "I could ask the same question."  
  
"We're just finishing up that mortgage case.."  
  
"Porte?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why didn't you call me in too?"  
  
Peter put a hand on Neal's shoulder steering him back towards the exit. "I didn't want to ruin your evening. If I need you, I'll let you know."  
  
Neal had the distinct impression he was being kicked out. Not suspicious at all. "Wait, I'm already here, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but we're just about to wrap up."  
  
Neal didn't think it looked like anybody was wrapping up anything. They were all just standing around, waiting for him to leave.  
  
"Right." Neal gave a quick smile. "OK. So I'll see you tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah." Peter nodded. "Tomorrow." He kept his face neutral. The glasses he'd picked up by Neal's had provided the match he'd been looking for. According to her surveillance, Heisner was back at Neal's place. If things went according to plan, by tomorrow both Neal and his girlfriend will be behind bars, and he'll be celebrating his biggest win since.. well, since he caught Caffrey the first time.  
  
He was relieved to see Neal turn around and head back outside. He waited till the con-man had disappeared into one of the elevators before going back to the conference room. "Keep an eye on his anklet," he instructed Jones. "I want to make sure he goes back home."  
  
Neal, of course, had no intention of doing so. He paused for a moment after the elevator doors closed, contemplating his options. Then, instead of going back down to the lobby, he pressed the button for the 22nd floor. He didn't have much time before Peter might get suspicious he was still in the building, but he had to know what they were discussing.  
  
He counted on the offices on the higher floor being open and mostly empty. Luckily for him, he didn't have to come up with a Plan B. Both assumptions turned out to be correct.  
  
Stepping out of the elevator, he could see a few people in the office, all with their heads down to their work. Good. He stopped by the maintenance closet, and after quickly fiddling with the lock, managed to enter.  
  
Two minutes later, he came out dressed in janitorial overalls, a ladder over his shoulder and a toolbox in his hand. Nobody paid him any attention as he entered.  
  
The department situated above White Collar had forgone the bullpen for a more cubicled approach. Neal made his way with a sure attitude towards the office right above where the White Collar conference room was located. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and locked it. Then he moved over to the window.  
  
For security and safety reasons, the windows didn't open beyond a mere few inches. Neal quickly bypassed this first obstacle by unscrewing the hinges and taking down the whole panel.  
  
Now came the more serious challenge. Lowering the ladder over the window ledge, he secured it to the window. He pushed down on it to make sure it was holding properly, and then carefully lowered himself onto the rungs. It wasn't very steady, but it held under his weight.  
  
His heart beat in his ears as he climbed down the ladder, taking one rung at a time, ever so slowly. The wind was so strong it almost pushed him off. It seemed to take ages until he was finally within sight of the conference room. He crouched low, holding on tightly to the ladder.  
  
From his vantage point he could see Peter and the other agents, their faces all grim and attentive. There was no reason for the agents below him to look out the window, but even if they did, the bright lights inside would make it hard for anybody to see out the window. And really, who would expect to see anybody outside?  
  
They were all standing round the long table, discussing some schematics. At first Neal couldn't make out what they were, but then Peter moved aside as he pointed out something, and Neal could feel a shudder run down his spine. He had hoped he was being overly paranoid. But apparently he hadn't been paranoid enough. The agents were reviewing a floor plan of June's house.  
  
Jen was right. It was time to flee.  
  
Except that he intended to flee with her. Carefully, he climbed back up to the 22nd floor window. Once he got back, he'll find a way to convince Jen they would have better chances running together.  
  
*****  
  
When Peter led a team into Neal's studio apartment a few hours later, the only one there was Neal. Sitting dejectedly by his kitchen table.  
  
The FBI agents quickly fanned through the apartment, but came up empty. Heisner had apparently evaded the surveillance team Peter had posted outside. Nonetheless, Peter ordered them to search the entire house. He then stopped by Neal. The CI was holding something in his hands, which Peter soon realized was a California driver's license.  
  
"She's not here." Neal didn't look up at Peter.  
  
"I should throw you in jail for aiding and abetting."  
  
Neal simply shrugged. "I don't care."  
  
Peter had a distinct feeling of deja-vu, except a lot had changed since he'd caught the young escapee three years ago. Neal wasn't just a case-file anymore, a suspect to be hunted down. He was a partner, and a friend. Peter might have to slap cuffs on him and haul him off to jail, just like Kramer had said he would, but that didn't change anything. Neal was still a friend.  
  
Peter pulled another chair out and sat down. "But I do."  
  
Neal finally looked over at Peter, and after a moment's pause, chuckled. Once again, Peter had caught him. "So what now?"  
  
Now you're going to help me catch this girlfriend of yours, and I'll break my head trying to keep you out of jail. The words were on the tip of Peter's tongue, but instead he just shook his head. Like he'd told Callaway, it was his job as Neal's handler to ensure Neal wasn't put in such a position.  
  
"Now you're going to tell me everything. From the beginning."  
  
Neal considered that for a moment. "Everything."  
  
"From the beginning," Peter prompted him.  
  
"OK." Neal put down Jen's ID, composing his thoughts. "Remember when we were in the van before that Forain swap?"  
  
Peter nodded.  
  
"So it wasn't as open and shut as I thought it would be."


End file.
